Nixon (Raleigh Raptors 1)

Nicole’s coos turned to fussing, and I quickly went inside to make a bottle. Once I settled us in our rocking chair, I fed her and sang to her and simply held her as she fell asleep. I was remiss to lay her in the crib until I heard Nixon come into our room.

“Those locals sure know how to wear a guy out,” he whispered as I laid Nicole in her crib next to our bed.

“Says the quarterback for the Raptors?” I teased. “Are you losing your touch?”

He cocked an eyebrow at me, gently ensnaring my wrist and drawing me into the attached bathroom with the outdoor shower. “You tell me,” he said, sliding his hands along my ribs, over my waist, and between my thighs.

“Nixon!” I whisper-squealed, not wanting to wake the baby.

His grin was infectious as he hoisted me up until I locked my ankles around his waist. “Come on,” he said, turning toward the incredibly small shower. “First, we’ll check for spiders,” he joked. “Then you can tell me if I’ve lost my touch.”

I trembled against the man, my heart racing as he claimed my mouth.

He’d never lose his touch.

Never lose the ability to steal my breath or make my heart melt.

And—thanks to a night in Vegas—we had a whole bunch of forever to look forward to.

THE END