I woke to a mouthwatering view—Ella, sprawled half on top of me, tangled in the sheets. Bare, golden skin kissed by the early morning light. The curve of her ass, the soft weight of her full, round breasts pressing against my chest, had my cock instantly hard. How could it not be? Every inch of her body was temptation wrapped in warm, sleepy softness.
I ran a hand down her bare back, fingers skimming her spine, slow and deliberate.
“You’re staring,” she murmured against my chest, voice still hoarse with sleep.
“I earned the right,” I rumbled, eyes shamelessly drinking her in. “I plan on staring every damn morning.”
Her lips curled into a smirk against my skin. “Possessive much?”
I shifted under her, letting her feel exactly how hard I was, thick and ready, pressing right against the soft inside of her thigh. “No,” I growled. “Just making sure you know what you do to me.”
She let out a breathy, satisfied sigh. “Message received.”
I grinned, brushing her hair back to get a clearer look at her face. “Good, because I’m planning on making you mine, Ella.”
Her brows lifted, but her eyes held that same spark from the night before. “Oh, are you now?”
“Mhm,” I traced up her thigh with my fingertips, coming deliciously close to between her legs. “You. The girls. All of it.”
She let out a soft laugh, breath hitching as I trailed kisses along her shoulder. “You don’t scare easy, do you?”
“Try me.” I nipped at her neck, feeling the goosebumps rise under my mouth. “I want real. Not another night. Not some passing fling.”
Her breath caught, her nails lightly scraping my chest. “Dom…”
I pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, my voice dropping to a low growl. “Say yes.”
She chewed her lip, debating, eyes flicking to my mouth and then down between us. I caught it. So did the part of me pressing against her thigh.
“You gonna make me beg, sweetheart?” I teased, voice rough with hunger.
She arched a brow. “Maybe.”
I let my hand drift higher. My fingers found her already wet and eager, slick heat welcoming me. I teased her, circling slowly, then slid a finger inside, deep and easy.
Her breath hitched, hips rocking into my hand as she clung to me.
“If I drag you beneath me and make you moan my name,” I murmured darkly against her ear, “you’ll be begging to say yes before you even remember the question.”
Her breath came faster, pupils dilating. “You’re cocky.”
“No,” I murmured, nipping at her earlobe. “I just know what you sound like when you fall apart for me.”
A shaky breath escaped her. “God, you’re trouble.”
I slid a second finger inside her, stretching her just enough to make her gasp against my mouth. “So, is that a yes?”
Her lips brushed mine, teasing. “Yes.”
I groaned, claiming her mouth in a deep, filthy kiss as my fingers worked her deeper, slower. She trembled beneath me, clutching my shoulders as if I were the only thing anchoring her to the bed.
Her breath hitched. “Dom—”
“Shh,” I murmured. “Let me show you how serious I am.”
She whimpered when I pressed my fingers deeper, feeling how wet and ready she was. I shifted above her, grabbing her thigh and hitching it around my waist. With one slow, long, deliberate thrust, I slid inside her, feeling every inch of her around my cock, tight and hot.
She arched beneath me, nails digging into my back as she moaned, head falling back against the pillows. “God, you feel—”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
We froze, panting, eyes wide.
I dropped my head to her chest with a frustrated groan. “Are you kidding me?”
Another round of knocks followed, this time more insistent, accompanied by a muffled voice, “Ella? You there? It’s me, Carrie!”
In the next room, the twins’ cries exploded like an alarm bell.
Ella’s eyes went wide. “Oh, shit—it’s Carrie.”
Carrie. Seth Bowan’s wife. Ice shot through my veins. If she saw me here—shirtless, fresh from Ella’s bed—the fallout would be catastrophic. Ella had been my patient. There was no way to make our being together okay in any professional sense of the word. The promotion would be Seth’s without a doubt.
“I have to hide,” I muttered, already reaching for my pants.
But Ella caught my arm, eyes pleading. “Yes, but—just go. Closet. Now.”
I paused, reading the panic on her face. This wasn’t just about my job. She was terrified of something else entirely.
“Ella, what—”
“Please, Dom. I’ll explain later.”
I didn’t have time to argue. Another knock rattled the door. Carrie’s voice followed, chipper and way too close. “Ella? You in there?”
I swore under my breath and grabbed my shirt, ducking into the tiny closet as Ella scrambled to tie her robe.
In the dark, crammed between coats and a pile of baby supplies, I pressed my back to the wall, heart hammering.
Outside, Ella opened the door, voice all sunshine and nerves. “Carrie! What a surprise.”
I clenched my jaw, listening to the twins wail—and to the creeping realization that I wasn’t just hiding me from Seth.
Ella was hiding me from Carrie, too.
Carrie’s voice floated through the apartment. “Sorry to drop in—I brought you some groceries and pastries. Figured you could use a treat.”
Shit. She’s staying.
A sharp cry from the nursery snapped me into action. Marissa. I grabbed the first thing I saw—a pink tank top of Ella’s—and yanked it over my head, rushing to the babies.
Marissa’s tiny face was scrunched, her lungs impressive. I scooped her up, bouncing gently. “Hey, sweetheart,” I murmured, forcing calm into my voice.
Through the cracked door, I caught snippets of Carrie chatting, oblivious to the storm brewing behind the nursery wall.
Then— “Mind if I peek at the girls?”
My blood iced.
Ella stalled. Carrie pressed, softer, “I’ll be quiet.”
No time. I set Marissa down, whispered an apology, and ducked into the cramped closet, pulling the door shut just as footsteps creaked closer.
The darkness closed in around me—baby laundry, spare blankets, and my own disbelief.
Forty-eight years old, crouched in my daughters’ closet, hiding like a damn teenager. This is insane.
But then again, losing the promotion to Seth? Worse.
Carrie, just outside the door to the nursery asked, “How are you feeling? Still sore everywhere?”
Ella chuckled nervously. “Um not really, but this morning might be an exception.”
“I’ve heard it comes and goes.”
If only she knew how Ella got sore…though, if this goes on any longer, I will be, too.
Between her husband last night, and Carrie this morning, I started to think anyone named Bowan was determined not to do the right thing. My lats had started to cramp up from the weird position I was in.
I ground my teeth, forcing myself to stay silent when all I wanted to do was curse and stretch. The pain built, though, not heeding my order to stop.
From my narrow view, I caught sight of Ella as she stepped into the doorway, Carrie right behind her. The other woman craned her neck, scanning the room, eyes lighting up at the sight of the twins. I couldn’t see her face fully, but I recognized the voice—she was all warm chatter, the tone of someone who adored babies and wasn’t leaving until she got her fill.
I recalled one of the hospital functions—a gala, I think—where she cooed over somebody’s baby. Seth, tipsy on one too many gimlets, confessed she had always wanted one, but settled for the restaurant because she didn’t think she’d be a good mother.
I didn’t know if that was how she felt about it, or if he was just drunk, but seeing half her face now, I imagined he was right.
“There they are,” Carrie whispered. “Oh, Ella, look at them. Have they grown since the last time I saw them?”
Ella chuckled nervously, moving to pick up Marissa. “Feels like they have. They’re eating like horses.”
Carrie cooed, leaning in to stroke Summer’s soft hair. “Aww, still asleep. Good girl.”
I pressed myself further against the closet’s back wall, every muscle taut. If Carrie turned even slightly, she might see me through the crack. My stomach twisted with the tension of it all—the bizarre image of me, a grown man, father of these twins, hiding in a closet like some guilty teenager.
Not that she knew I was their father.
And it had to stay that way.
