Page 60 of Cross Check Daddies
She takes a breath and pulls back slightly. Her voice is quiet but steady.
“The two people I’ve been seeing… They are Cam and Tanner.”
I go still. Not because I’m angry. Just... surprised. I didn’t think it was people I knew. Not like that.
“Shit,” I murmur, leaning back, scrubbing a hand over my jaw. “Okay. That’s... wow.”
That explains the fight those two had.
“I know,” she says quickly, already climbing off my lap. “It’s weird. I didn’t plan it like this. I didn’t expect?—”
“Brooke,” I interrupt, reaching for her hand. “I just need a minute. That’s a lot to absorb.”
She nods, folding her arms, pacing a little. I watch her carefully, the way she pulls her sleeves over her hands, the nervous bite of her lip. She’s bracing for judgment. I’m not here to give it.
“You talk to them about it?”
“Not together,” she says. “Cam and I had a fight. And a... moment. After. He knows. I asked him to talk to Tanner. I don’t know if he will.”
I nod slowly. “Everything’s easier when it’s out in the open. Secrets rot things from the inside. You think you’re protecting people, but what you’re really doing is drawing lines in the dark and hoping no one stumbles over them.”
She stops pacing. Her eyes flick to mine, something vulnerable flashing through them.
“That’s... really good advice.”
“I coach for a living,” I say, smirking. “Sometimes wisdom slips out between yelling at grown men to stop checking each other into the boards.”
She laughs. “You’re wise beyond your years.”
I pinch her butt. She yelps, spins, and swats at my hand. I grab her waist and pull her back down to the couch, this time beside me. Her laughter dies down into something quieter, warmer. I press my palm against her knee, then slide it up, resting on the curve of her hip.
“So?” she asks.
“So,” I echo.
“What do you think?”
I trace my thumb along her jaw, down the side of her neck. Her skin is warm under my touch.
“I like you. More than I planned to. I’m not trying to own you. I just want to see where this goes. If that means we keep talking, keep touching, keep figuring it out as we go... I’m in. But I need honesty. Always.”
“Okay,” she says, her voice low.
Her eyes flicker shut as my hand strokes up her neck, fingers threading into her hair. She tilts her face toward me, and my lips graze hers. I suck her bottom lip into my mouth, drawing a soft whimper from her throat. Her fingers grip the front of my shirt, tugging just enough to let me know she’s not ready to pull back.
Shit, why does she taste so good?
It’s maddening.
I kiss her again, deeper this time, my tongue sliding against hers, her moan vibrating in my mouth. She’s straddling something fragile—still caught between guilt and permission—and I don’t push her off it. I just meet her where she is. Right here. Right now.
As long as she wants me here, I’m staying.
The kiss deepens until we stop pretending to keep it measured. She shifts in my lap, and I groan low into her mouth as her thigh slides against my cock.
Her hands find the hem of my shirt and push it up, palms flat over my stomach, like she’s memorizing what I feel like beneathher. The fabric peels over my head and lands somewhere on the couch. I’m not watching anymore.
My focus is narrowed down to the soft, rapid gasps she lets out every time my fingers slide up her sides or dip under the waistband of her sleep shorts.
