Leanne Banks - From Playboy To Papa!

He lifted his index finger to her lips.

“I guess you haven’t been kissed enough,” he said and pulled her flush against his body.

Heat rushed through her and she couldn’t stop a smile at the easy, sexy way he handled her. “I didn’t say that. I was just looking at you.”

“Why look when you can touch?” he asked and lifted one of her hands to his chest at the same time he lowered his mouth to hers.

His mouth sent fireworks through her. He seemed to devour her as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He skimmed his mouth down over her shoulder, sending ripples of sensation in his wake.

He touched the sides of her breasts, teasing her until she couldn’t remain still, pushing her nipples against his palm.

He swore under his breath, but it was a sound of pleasure. “I love the way you move.”

Sliding one of his hands between her legs, he found her wet and swollen. “Ready already?”

A twinge of self-consciousness rushed through her. Did he really not know that he kept her in a state of readiness for him all the time? “Is that bad?” she asked, her voice sounding breathless to her own ears.

“If it’s bad, then we’re both bad,” he said, and guided her hand over his erection.

She slid her hand over him, moving in long strokes.

He let out a hiss of breath, his eyes fixed on her. “I need you again.”

It amazed her how powerful he could make her feel even when she was in such a vulnerable position. Suddenly, touching and needing weren’t nearly enough. “I need you, too.”

He rolled on to his back, pulling her on top of him, sending her equilibrium spinning. “You set the pace. If I do, it will all be over in sixty seconds.”

She laughed despite her own mind-blowing arousal. Pushing herself up and propping her hands on either side of his head, she stared into his eyes as he wrapped his hands around her hips and guided her just over him.

“Take it slow,” he told her. “You do wicked things to my self-control.”

Sliding down him inch by delicious inch, she felt his groan vibrate inside her. She’d never imagined she could feel this free with a man, this desirable, this passionate, this…in love…

Nicole awakened so slowly she almost felt as if she were still dreaming. She heard the sound of laughter. Joel, she realized with a smile. She would know that sound anywhere. A second later, she heard a deeper, masculine chuckle. She blinked, immediately identifying Rafe’s voice.

Disoriented, she sat up in bed, trying to make sense of the hot visual she’d had. Had Rafe been in her bed? Her body felt odd, swollen with arousal. She ran her hands over her night clothes and embarrassment washed over her.

What was the matter with her? How could she be having erotic dreams about a man she didn’t trust? Or was it possible that her feelings for him were more complex than she’d realized? She shook her head, unable to believe it.

“Shhh. Don’t wake your mother,” Rafe said just outside her door.

“She likes me to wake her up,” Joel said. “She likes it when I jump on the bed. It makes her laugh. You can come, too.”

Still horrified by her dreams, Nicole gasped, scrambling out of bed and rushing to open the door. “I hear someone laughing,” she managed, focusing on Joel, who was still dressed in his dinosaur jammies.

“It was me and him,” he said, pointing at Rafe.

Dressed in shorts and a black T-shirt that stretched tight over his shoulders, Rafe stepped forward and leaned against the doorjamb in the hallway, stealing her attention and her breath.

“Somebody’s a pistol in the morning,” he said, giving her a swift, but thorough onceover before he met her gaze.

“He wakes up happy,” she said, feeling self-conscious. “Don’t you, Joel?”

He rushed into her arms and she hugged his sweet little body and gave him a good tickle. His belly laugh made her smile.

“If we could bottle that sound,” Rafe said.

She nodded in agreement and hugged him again.

“Mom, we’re gonna have pancakes. With strawberries and chocolate chips.”

“Not in the same pancakes,” Rafe corrected and rubbed his hand over Joel’s head. “Tell her what else we’re going to do.”

“Fish,” Joel said. “We’re gonna catch fish.”

His enthusiasm was contagious. “What are you going to do with them after you catch them?”

Joel looked at her then up at Rafe. “What do we do after we catch them?”

“We throw them back so someone else can take a turn catching them?”

Joel’s face crinkled in confusion. “Can’t I keep just one?”

“We’ll see,” Rafe said.

“That means no,” Joel said in a glum tone.

“Maybe I could get an aquarium,” Rafe ventured, lifting his thumb to his lip.

“An aquarium is a big commitment. Maybe we could just pick up one of those betta fish,” Nicole said.

“That’s okay. I’m in it for the long haul,” Rafe said, and picked up Joel.

Nicole was struck by the resemblance between the two. With the exception of Joel’s blue eyes, he could have been a miniature replica. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed their similarities, but every time seemed to underline their bond more and more. She took a quick breath and focused on his comment. “I’m speaking of someone else’s interest. It wanes quickly.”

“Ah,” Rafe said. “Point taken. Betta fish on the way home. Are you joining us?”

“After I get dressed.”

“No need,” he said, his gaze skimming over her again. “We’re casual.”

“I’ll be out soon,” she said and closed her door. Her heart was racing. She frowned at herself, still disturbed by her hot dream. “Get a grip,” she whispered.

Joel didn’t stop bouncing with excitement for most of the day. His son even reached for his hand several times. The gesture tugged at his heart and he was relieved at the small sign of Joel’s trust. Joel would adjust. His son would grow to trust him more each day, to rely on him, maybe even to love him. It would happen faster if he had Nicole’s support and Rafe sensed he was getting to her.

She laughed and he felt her gaze on him several times throughout the day. He sensed both curiosity and skepticism. The latter made him impatient.

That night, after they returned to the house, Joel hit the sack early and Rafe took advantage of the time by inviting Nicole to join him for dinner on the patio.

“Have you ever gotten into a physical altercation as an adult?” Nicole asked him after dinner.

It was approximately the twentieth question she’d asked him regarding physical fights.

“Yes, I have. I was a bouncer for a couple of clubs in Miami. A few times I had to resort to brute strength, but not since. Why do you ask?” He met her gaze directly.

She bit her lip. “I just wanted to know what your approach to life was. If you thought physical intimidation was necessary.”

“In rare circumstances. If someone came at you or Joel, I would defend you,” he said. “I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t.”

“What do you mean-not a man?” she asked.

“I mean I wouldn’t stand for anyone attacking you.” He shrugged. “I would protect my son. My son’s mother.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “And what about your son? Would you physically punish him? Would you-” She broke off as if she could barely complete her sentence. “Would you punish a woman?”

Rafe scowled in distaste. “A real man never uses his strength against a child or a woman.”

She bit her lip again. “You really believe that,” she said in an unsteady voice.

“Of course I do. Only cowards prey on those who are weaker.” He wondered where her questions originated. “Where is all of this coming from?”