The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4)

I stood and turned her so I could ease her down on her back. In a few more weeks, I’d be rougher, but chest fractures were notoriously slow to heal, and I didn’t want her thinking about anything other than her desperation for my cock.

Her legs wrapped around my hips, and her hands went to my belt.

“Do you want children?” I demanded abruptly.

She froze, my belt half unlatched in her hands. “What?”

I clenched my jaw. “I believe you heard me, and I dislike repeating myself.”

“Uh . . .” Sophia’s disorientation was painted across her face. “I mean, yeah, I did.”

“Then I suggest you stop taking your birth control. I am not getting any younger.”

She scrambled to sit up on the desk, staring at me with her eyes wider than I’d ever seen them. “What?” she gasped. “You already have kids. I thought you wouldn’t want more.”

I latched my hands on her waist, anchoring her to me. I’d improved dramatically since she’d come into my life, but I still struggled to admit my shortcomings. “I was not a good father my first time around.”

She laced her fingers together at the back of my neck and peered at me with cautious hope. “You want to have kids . . . with me?”

“I’d like the opportunity,” I said, “to try again, to be better this time. I know it sounds crazy. We’ve only been together a short while, and I’m going to be a grandfather soon, but if you want this, I’d do my best to give it to you.”

Her gaze focused on the knot of my tie as she pondered it. “Let’s think about that some more. We have time.” She gave me a shy smile. “George Clooney was fifty-six when he first had kids.”

“I am not George Clooney.”

She sighed dramatically. “Don’t I know it.”

I grabbed her hair at the back of her head and tugged, forcing her chin up, and gave her the sharp edge of my teeth at the side of her neck. She whimpered with enjoyment, and the sound of it shot straight to my groin. I’d momentarily derailed the mood with my abrupt question about kids, but I’d been anxious about approaching the subject with her, and it had burst from me without warning. Now that we’d discussed it, it was time to get back on track.

I dropped my gaze to my half-undone belt then gave her a pointed look. “Well?”

She grinned and eagerly resumed her work.

Sophia hadn’t given me the answer I wanted quite yet, but I felt confident she would. We wanted the same thing and were both accustomed to getting our way. And there was another answer I was certain I would get from her, when the time was right.

She wasn’t really an Alby or a Lynch—her surname in Cape Hill was trapped in limbo.

I had a plan to correct that.