Page 25 of Room 908

I slid my hands up to cup his cheeks, the barest rasp of whiskers on my palms. “Listen. If your dreams have changed, there’s nothing wrong with that, but if you still want to be a doctor, I can help you. If you need someone to pick Cam up from school or help with homework, I’ll be there. If you’re worried about bills and tuition, don’t. Money is no longer an issue.” I rested my forehead on his, sharing his air. “Please, let me help you.”

He shook his head gently. “Have you seen what people are saying about me? They think I only want your money, and if I accept a single cent from you, it’ll only be confirming what they think.”

In the darkness, I shrugged. “I don’t care what other people think. Do you?”

He huffed. “A little, yeah. I know they’re strangers and I shouldn’t care, but Cam will hear those same rumors. It’s one thing to be strong for myself, but I can’t put that on him.”

It was hard to dispute that, but I wanted to believe that Cam was a smart kid, and he knew his dad better than anyone. He would never believe the lies.

“Did you know that the divorce rate among NFL players is like 80%?” I said.

“What? That seems high.”

“It is high. Whether it’s because of infidelity or substance abuse or mental health, the celebrity lifestyle adds a lot of pressure on a relationship, and most of those players have kids. I’m sure they must hear the rumors too. And I’m not saying it’s right that kids should be subjected to that kind of spotlight, but it never lasts. When we don’t feed into the drama, the press will get bored of us. Either that, or we could be disgustingly sappy for the cameras until they don’t have any doubt about the validity of our relationship…” As I was saying it, I was inching my fingers over his shoulders and down his back.

“Eric…” he said, a note of warning in his tone, but he arched his hips as I dipped lower, and I felt the evidence of his yearning press into me.

I let my lips trace his jawline, and he tilted his head back to grant me access. “I got my dream—it’s not too late for you to get yours,” I whispered against his skin before sucking gently on his earlobe.

He made the most delicious sound, half growl, half whimper, squirming against me, and the friction had me hard as a rock. “No fair trying to get me to agree to this while you’re doing that.”

“Doing what?” I said, playing innocent. “This?” I eased my hand down the back of his pants and inserted a finger through the crack of his ass, growing slippery with his slick. I was seriously cursing his tight pants right now. There wasn’t enough room for me to do all the things I was dying to do. I could just barely tease my fingertip along the puckered muscle of his hole.

“What happened to going slow?” he panted breathlessly.

“You want slow? I can do slow…” I said before dragging my tongue up the column of Jasper’s throat at an excruciatingly slow pace, nipping with my teeth. I wedged my thick thigh between his legs, letting him ride me.

“W-we should get back to the party.” Even as he said it, he clung to me, grinding on me. When I teased his nipple through his shirt, he gripped my hair and dragged my head back so he could kiss me. It was ferocious, all teeth and tongues, and I wondered how I’d lived this long without him. I should’ve tracked him down and made him mine years ago.

I never should’ve lost him in the first place.

The sensations were overwhelming, and we nearly toppled over, but I caught a shelf and held on for dear life. I could come just like this, dry-humping in the pantry.

Without warning, the door slid open behind me, and the pantry was flooded with light from the kitchen. Jasper squeaked and tried to jump away, but I kept my grip tight, refusing to let him go. It wasn’t like we could hide what we’d been doing.

Beck blinked dumbly for a second, then barked out a surprised laugh. “I was just looking for another bag of chips.”

“Here you go,” I said, reaching up with one hand and grabbing a couple different flavors off the top shelf and shoving them in his direction.

“Thanks,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me in warning. “It’s almost time to cut the cake,” he said before closing the door.

“Now, where were we,” I said, descending on Jasper again, but the spell was officially broken.

He wrestled his way out of my arms, and I missed him instantly. “We were about to go back to the party.” He finally found the light switch so he could see what he was doing while he adjusted his pants and smoothed down his hair. “How do I look? Is it obvious?”

He looked a bit rumpled, his lips swollen. I tugged his shirt collar a little higher to hide the whisker burn I’d given him, then planted one last soft kiss on his lips. “You look perfect.”

The only thing that could make him more perfect was if he was mine.

15

Jasper

Thetinygraykittenstretched in her sleep, then rolled, baring her soft belly, her tail draping over my thigh.

I was seated at the clinic’s front desk, working—or as close to working as I could manage when I had an adorable kitten in my lap. The poor thing had been dropped off as a stray last night after someone found her alone in an alley, cold, dehydrated, and trembling with fear. It was hard to tell how old she was, but her eyes were open, so we guessed maybe three or four weeks. Certainly too young to be without her mother.

Beck took the as-yet-unnamed kitten home last night, waking up through the night to bottle-feed her every few hours, but he couldn’t very well juggle his job along with the kitten. Which left me with an itty-bitty baby in my lap.

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