Page 56 of Cross Check Daddies
I lift her by the hips and lay her down on the carpet right there, her robe still half-on, her body bare beneath it. I settle between her thighs, kissing her again, letting her taste herself on my tongue. She arches against me, hips rising, and that’s all the permission I need.
I sink into her slowly, and it feels like coming home and losing myself all at once.
She clings to me, her nails dragging down my back. I fuck her hard and deep on the floor, our bodies slamming into each other like nothing’s ever made sense except this. I bury my face in her neck, my breath hot and ragged. She moans my nameagain, pulling me in tighter like she wants to forget the rest of the world.
We break together—loud, chaotic, wrapped in heat and guilt and the wreckage of everything we never finished.
For a long moment after, there’s only silence. Our breaths. The way her chest rises and falls against mine.
Then she shifts. Her voice is quiet, strained.
“What does this mean?”
I roll to the side but keep my arm over her waist. I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
She nods like she expected that. Then turns her face toward mine. “Cam... I care about you. That’s real. But that’s not the whole story anymore.”
The ache behind those words hits hard. I study her profile in the low light, the way her lashes still cling to the edge of tears, the tension in her jaw. Her honesty is a knife, but she’s not trying to cut.
She brushes her hand through my hair, gentle now. “I don’t want you and Tanner to hate each other because of me.”
I close my eyes, throat tight. “Okay,” I say after a moment. It’s not much, but it’s the best I’ve got.
We lie there a little longer in the mess we made, her hand resting over the ink she found earlier. And for once, neither of us moves to fix what’s broken.
We just lie in it. Together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ace
The streets are just wakingup when I step outside, laces double-knotted, air still cool and sharp against my skin.
I’ve got a long run ahead of me and I need it—something to bleed the tension out of my shoulders, get my mind straight. Not that it ever works for long. I’m stretching against the post near the stairs when I hear the familiar thud of little feet and the deeper, slower pace beside them.
Jackson’s already mid-hop down the last step, grinning like it’s a full-blown holiday.
“Hello!”
Brooke follows behind him, clutching a leash that tugs impatiently toward the corner. She’s in pajama pants and a loose sweatshirt that slides off one shoulder, hair pulled into a messy bun that somehow makes her look more put together than anyone I’ve seen this early. She yawns as she adjusts the strap across her chest, half-laughing as the bulldog strains forward.
“Sorry. My nanny had a shift. It’s just me and the chaos this morning.”
“Chaos looks good on you,” I say before I can stop myself.
She gives me a look, playful but hesitant. “Taking the beast for his constitutional. He’s been doing laps in the living room since five.”
I laugh, ruffling Jackson’s hair. “Your boy has more energy than my entire team.”
“He gets it from his dad,” she says, then immediately glances away. That silence settles too quickly.
“You free tonight?” I ask, light, casual. “Dinner?”
She stops mid-step. The bulldog huffs, pulling gently on the leash. She doesn’t answer right away. Her face does that thing I’m learning to recognize—the one where she’s weighing what not to say.
“Can we talk about this more?”
“Is this about what you told me?” I ask, keeping my tone even.
