Stripped Bare (Vegas Billionaire 1)

“And I’ll help you.”

Shaking my head, I tell him, “No. We don’t want your money.”

“This is my money,” he roars as he stands up. “All of this? I paid for it. Don’t you wonder how I know where you live? Imagine my horror when I found out my daughter grew up in a fucking crack house, or that her mother has worked as a goddamn stripper for ten years to put food on the table. Don’t fucking mess with me on this shit, Macey. I have the money and you know damn well I’m going to use it to take care of her.”

I can’t stomach the sight of him and hightail it to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. This is easier than asking him to leave because I know he won’t. Deep down I know he won’t leave without Morgan. He’s going to take her away from me and there isn’t anything I can do about it.

With my face buried into my pillow I cry as loud as I can, letting it all out. When the bed dips, I know it’s Finn and before I can protest I’m in his arms and he’s nuzzling my hair.

“Why so many tears, Macey?”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what? That she’s going to love me? Is that so bad?”

I shake my head. “That you’re going to take her away from me.”

Finn doesn’t say anything but continues to hold me, allowing me to cry out all that I have left within me. I lose track of time and when I look at Finn, he meets my gaze.

“I’m not going to take her away from you.”

“Promise?”

“With everything that I have. I’m going to need you to be this amazing mother to her because I will probably fail miserably at being a father. I don’t know shit about being a dad, but I already know that you love her more than anything and honestly, I’m jealous. I want to know her, Macey. And I want her to know I’m her dad.”

“Tomorrow,” I tell him. “Tomorrow I’ll tell her.”

“We’ll do it together in the morning.” He pulls me closer and slides his hand up under my shirt.

“Finn, we can’t . . .” I push him away and try to move to the other side of my bed, but he holds me to him.

“We can sleep and before she wakes I’ll go to the couch.”

“Have you ever shared a bed with a woman who kept her clothes on?” I ask him, causing him to laugh.

“No, but there’s a first time for everything. Besides, who said anything about keeping your clothes on?”

“Finn . . .” I warn him.

“What?” he asks as my shirt comes up over my head. I’m weak for him and I hate it. His lips start at my neck and move their way down until he’s biting me through my bra. “I’ve missed this with you, Macey. I’ll be quiet if you are.” He winks as he goes back to making me feel . . . feel like he cares and wants to be with me.

22

Finn

Macey’s couch is the most uncomfortable piece of furniture I have ever slept on and I’ve slept on some shitty couches before. Every few inches there’s a spring prodding me in my back, reminding me of how different Macey and I live, and how I can change it all for her in the blink of an eye.

At about four-thirty in the morning, Macey woke in a panic and scared the shit out of me. I thought someone was breaking into her apartment and ran out of her room stark-ass naked with her chasing me, frantically waving my clothes at me. That’s when it dawned on me. The sun was going to start rising and Morgan would be waking up.

Last night, Macey didn’t want me in her room, but I stayed and cashed in the last of what she owed me, although being with her didn’t feel like that. Something has changed within me in these past few days and I can’t put my finger on it, but I know it has to do with Macey.

Sleeping with Macey . . . it was more out of desire and longing as opposed to having someone readily available to meet my needs. We fooled around longer, the foreplay was more sensual instead of a path toward an end, and I can easily say holding her naked body against mine and talking to her until she fell asleep was the most sexually charged moment of my life.

I’m still battling the demon inside, the one who wants me to berate Macey for keeping Morgan from me, but my heart is telling me otherwise. Macey and I come from two different worlds and for her to have the courage to go to my mother speaks volumes. My mother, and maybe even my father, on the other hand—I can’t comprehend why she didn’t tell me, why she felt the need to hide this from me. Did she think I wouldn’t be able to handle being a father at eighteen? Or that I wouldn’t be there for Morgan the way I can be now?