Page 105 of Room 4 Rent

Tatum clings to his side, refusing to allow any space between them. That’s when the woman’s eyes drift to Tatum and then Cason as he hands her back the napkin he signed. “She’s so cute. Is that your daughter?”

Cason smiles, his eyes darting to mine, Tatum, and then he lets out a relieved breath. “Yeah.”

Did your heart explode into a million pieces like mine? He didn’t have to say that, and maybe he did to not make it awkward, but whatever the reason, I love him even more.

He’s bombarded with fans after that and we end up leaving dinner early. I knew it’d be like this though. You can’t break the world record and have a peaceful evening out after that.

AT THE HOTEL, we tuck Tatum into bed. “It’s a good thing there’s two rooms with a locking door,” Cason adds, locking the door behind him.

I lay on the bed, stripping off my clothes. No sense in wasting time. “You didn’t have to say that she’s your daughter,” I point out now that Tatum’s not in the room. I don’t need to say anything, but I want him to know I appreciate that he claims her.

He stops, mid-undressing, and stares at me. “She might not be mine biologically, but in here…” His hand touches his chest over his heart. “You’re both mine already.”

A smile flutters on my lips as he shreds his jacket first, then his button-down shirt, and begins working on his jeans, the intensity behind his eyes causing me to squirm on the bed. I wanted to jump him the second I spotted him on the field during the game and now my want had turned into I-have-to-have-him-now sorta feeling that left me vibrating. Literally freaking vibrating, waiting to have the weight of his body on mine.

“This feels like a dream,” I whisper, watching him crawl onto the bed. His hands seek me out, prying my thighs apart.

“I know what you mean.” He laughs, low and throaty, sweeping my hair aside to kiss the curve of my neck. “I keep blinking to make sure it’s real.”

“My heart tells me it’s real. If not, I’m having a damn heart attack.”

“Don’t do that,” he mumbles, kissing my chest, neck, then my lips. “I have plans for you tonight. And I need you alive for it.”

A breathy laugh leaves my lips. “I’ll try not to.”

“But I do have to warn you.” His chest meets mine soon after. “This won’t last long,” he teases, working himself between my legs, his lips crashing to mine with a devastating warmth I missed so much. His kiss is possessive, demanding, and so familiar. Deepening the kiss, he devours me, heated, sexy, and everything I knew him to be.

I hold him close, whispering as he enters me, “We have all night.”

I feel his smile on my lips as he slowly eases into our lovemaking. I don’t care if he lasts five seconds or five minutes. All I care about is this white-hot desire washing over me.

I know the life of a major league player is unpredictable. But guess what, so is life. You never know what you’re going to get or who’s going to show up at your door.

Or buy you coffee when you need it.

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