She nods.

  I line myself up against her heat and gently rub back and forth. Kylie shudders and arches her back, ready to take me.

  "Fuck, a condom," I groan. I'd almost forgotten. That's never happened before.

  "Are you clean?" she asks.

  "Of course. I never fuck without a condom."

  She hesitates just a moment as though reading me. I've told her before that I'd never lie to her, and I can tell she's recalling that. "I'm on birth control," she says.

  Bareback? With this beautiful woman? I'm certain I'll come too fast and embarrass myself without the layer of latex between us, but I don't care. I want to feel her. Just her. Without a piece of rubber between us. "Are you sure?"

  She quickly nods and reaches for me again. "Yes, I'm sure."

  I position her so that her casted arm rests comfortably between us, being careful not to jostle it too much. "I don't want to hurt you," I say.

  "I'm fine, Pace. I promise."

  I ease forward, keeping one hand on the base of my shaft and one hand on her hip as our bodies join. The wet heat that envelopes me is indescribable. Inch by inch, I bury myself inside her. Fuck.

  Kylie's whimper once I'm fully seated makes my balls tighten.

  "How does that feel?" I choke out.

  Her eyes lift to mine. "My vagina isn't stretched out."

  "What?"

  "My ex ... he said he didn't want to be with a woman who was fat and had a stretched out vagina after having a baby."

  "As much as I love discussing your ex while I'm inside you, what are you talking about, angel?"

  "My vagina—it feels normal. It doesn't feel stretched out."

  "It feels fucking awesome." I still my movements and look deep into her eyes. "And you're nowhere near close to fat. Your body did something fucking amazing. You grew a little person in there. With all due respect to Max's father, he sounds like a fucking moron."

  Kylie smiles up at me, placing her palm against my cheek.

  I take that as a signal that sharing time is over, and it's time to get down to business. Which is excellent news, because if I don't move soon I'm going die.

  I lift her calves, securing both of her ankles around my back. "Hang on, baby."

  Kylie grips my shoulder with her good hand, and with my hands still holding her legs, I begin sliding in and out once again. She moans softly and digs her fingernails into my back. It feels incredible. I love watching her take her pleasure while I fuck her. She tightens her legs around my waist, arching into my thrusts to take me deeper and her cheeks flush with heat. She is alive and confident. It's incredibly sexy.

  I move slowly, pressing deep and then retreating. I want this moment to last.

  "Tell me how to make you come. Tell me what you need," I whisper, pressing light kisses to her mouth.

  "Harder. I need it harder," she says.

  Oh fuck, yeah. Done with holding back, I rock into her, giving her my full length, gaining speed with each thrust until I'm fucking her hard and fast.

  Kylie moans softly and her normally bright green eyes glaze over with lust.

  I slam into her again and again, barely holding off my own impending orgasm in pursuit of hers.

  "Let it go," I remind her again and she does. Her muscles squeeze around me, and she lets out a low whimper, clutching my shoulder and crying out my name.

  Pace.

  The sound of my name shuddering on her lips undoes me.

  I come with a small shout, burying my face into her neck as I spill inside of her.

  Chapter Nine

  Kylie

  I'm still trembling as I crawl back into bed with Max. I cannot believe what I've done. I not only let Pace fuck me on his office desk, I begged him to do it harder. Oh dear, God.

  I bury my face in my shaky hands. And worst of all is that I’m still smiling, and I want to do that again and again. I know I've fought it hard and tried to convince myself that this man doesn’t fit into our lives, but at every turn, he proves me wrong.

  After our intimate encounter in his office, he grabbed a handful of tissues to clean up his essence that was running down my thighs. Then we'd redressed in silence, the weight of what we'd just done sinking in. He kissed me goodnight in the hallway and then headed to the couch while I retreated to the safety and comfort of his bedroom. Which is where I am now.

  Max is still sound asleep, thank goodness, oblivious to what just took place.

  My cell phone chimes signaling a new text, and even though my limbs are heavy with sleep, and I'm sure it's no one important, I reach blindly toward the bed side table until my fingers close around it.

  It's Pace.

  Goodnight, Moon.

  How two simple words placed together on the screen can make me feel so much, I have no idea. The way his eyes stayed on me while I read the story to Max is a feeling I will never forget. It makes me feel like I'm beautiful, not just as a mother, but as a woman.

  I tuck the phone under the pillow and drift off into a peaceful sleep, thankful for Pace's presence in our lives.

  Little did I know that everything would change the following day.

  ***

  The morning starts with Pace getting ready for work quietly while Max and I sleep in his bed. Well, Max sleeps and I drift in and out to the sounds of the shower running, to the scent of aftershave wafting from the steam-filled bathroom. I rest quietly with a smile on my mouth remembering last night.

  When Pace steps out of the walk-in closet, he's dressed in navy suit pants, and a crisp white shirt with a gray tie. He looks smart, and put together and ready to take on the world. I'm reminded of his proclamation that he could take care of us both—me and Max. I imagine what it would be like to welcome a man like him home every evening. Someone to eat with, play with, and daydream about the future with.

  I swallow a lump in my throat at the sudden rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm me.

  "You're staying right?" Pace whispers.

  I nod. "Yes. What time will you be home?"

  "Mondays after work I normally meet my brothers for a drink. It'll just be me and Collins. I can cancel," he says.

  "No, go. It's fine. I'm used to this, remember?"

  "Yes, but not one-handed, you're not. I'll be home by eight."

  We keep our voices low in an attempt not to wake a sleeping Max.

  "Okay," I say. "Have a good day."

  "You too." He leans down and kisses my forehead, then looks thoughtfully at Max and does the same to him.

  He doesn’t mention last night, and I don’t know what I expected him to say, but the fact that he doesn’t acknowledge it at all makes me feel uneasy. Did last night mean as much to him as it did to me?

  I want to pull him down onto the bed with me and tell him that last night was amazing, but I don't. Instead, I watch him leave from my warm spot in the bed and wonder what he's thinking.

  Later, I shower, careful to keep my cast dry, catch up on some work, and play with Max. But then something strange happens around lunchtime.

  Elan calls.

  Utterly shocked, I ignore it, but he proceeds to call seven more times.

  On the eighth phone call, I pick up, thinking something terrible must have happened. I have no idea why he'd be trying to get ahold of me.

  "Hello?"

  "Kylie…" His voice is immediately familiar and comforting.

  I hate it.

  "Elan? What's going on? Has something happened?" I ask, ignoring the feelings that flood my system when he speaks my name.

  "Yes." He releases a heavy sigh and pauses. "I've made a terrible mistake."

  I listen, waiting for him to continue, my eyes on Max where he plays on the carpet at my feet.

  "You, and my … my son… I…" his voice cracks.

  "How did you know it was a boy?" I ask.

  "I had a dream. A beautiful dream about you both. I pushed you away because I was afraid, and now I fear it's too late."

  I sink down onto the couch. Of course it's too late.

  Isn't it?

  I want to scream at him, I want to hang up the phone and not give it a second thought, but I'm unable to. For months and months I wanted nothing more than for Elan to come around, to know that someday Max could have a relationship with this man. I've accepted that Elan and I are through, but I never wanted my son to suffer this loss.

  I listen, numb, while Elan relays a story to me about his parents and how they lost a baby—a baby meant to be his younger sister—when she was just a newborn, and how the loss was so devastating, so tragic that they never recovered. Not only did their marriage fall apart, but his mother was committed to an institution when he was six years old and remained there for three years. He tells me all of this and explains that is why he had been terrified of bringing a new baby into this world with me. My brain spins and spins. I hand Max a stuffed animal and make it dance around, but the phone stays glued to my ear, and my brain is elsewhere.

  "I want to see you, to meet my son. I want a chance to build back what we had."

  "What are you saying? You left us. You sent someone by with a check! You weren't even man enough to come by yourself. To look me in the eye…" I lower my tone, realizing I'm on the verge of screaming and take a deep, calming breath. I stand and pace the room, heading into the kitchen to get some distance from Max's little ears.

  "What did you name him?" he asks, his voice whisper-soft unlike I've ever heard it before.

  "Maxwell," I say. "But I call him Max." I don't explain that I'd chosen the name as a constant reminder to myself to maximize every moment and to never feel sorry for myself over the situation.

  "It's perfect," he says. "Kylie? What do you say? I'd like to meet my son."

  I open my mouth to refuse his request, but my eyes wander over to my son—my son who looks exactly like his father and a sense of stillness washes over me. I know that for Max's sake, I need to hear him out. I have no legal right to refuse Elan. It occurs to me that if I try to deny him access to Max, he could get lawyers involved and try to get joint custody. I don't want that.

  "I… I don't know, Elan. I've met someone," I say. "I'm happy." The image of Pace's intense gaze as he sunk into me last night, so concerned with my arm, and my pleasure, rips through me making me shiver.

  "Please," he begs. "Wouldn’t it be best for our son if we were together?"

  I tell him that I need time to think, and we end the call.

  My mind is playing through various scenarios all day long, but I'm unable to escape that realization that Elan is right about one thing. I owe it to Max to at least talk to Elan. It is best for Max if I give him a fair, fighting chance at a relationship. It will not be easy for him to win my trust back, and I don’t even know if he deserves a shot after the way he walked out on me, but it's in Max's best interest. And there is nothing I would not do for my son.

  I call him back several hours later.

  "Okay," I say. No hello, no formal pleasantries, because I am not in the mood for all the fanfare. I feel like I'm conceding—like I'm giving up a piece of myself. I've had Max all to myself this entire time, so maybe I am. Even if it is the right thing to do for all involved.

  "Okay?" he asks.

  "You can meet him," I say.

  "Today. Are you free?"

  Knowing that Pace won't be home until late, I agree. "Okay. The park by my house. I'll text you when Max wakes up from his nap, and we'll head over there."

  "I will be there," Elan says, excitement heavy in his voice.

  I pull in a deep breath, trying to quiet all of the warring emotions inside of me. "See you then."

  ***

  Elan arrives right on time, hitting the button on his key fob to lock his Mercedes before starting across the park toward us. His eyes immediately stray from mine over to Max. He swallows, nervously and licks his lips. "Wow." He's looking Max over from top to bottom, no doubt amazed at the uncanny resemblance.

  Elan looks different. Older somehow. There are little lines around his eyes and more weight around his middle than I remember. He sits quietly on the bench beside me and watches Max plays with a set of trucks I've brought. Max seems pretty oblivious to his presence. Elan seems completely humbled.

  He'd arrived empty handed, and I'm not sure what I expected, but I guess it was something more than nothing. Not that gifts would make up for his year-long absence, but maybe it'd be a small token in the right direction—and provide something so that Max could immediately relate to this new, strange man. Even Pace, bachelor extraordinaire, thought to bring a gift the first time he spent time with Max.

  Elan sits with his hands folded in his lap watching Max play and babble. "He's beautiful. Does he say any words?"

  "Yes, Mumma and ball are all he says right now, but he knows the signs for lots of things. Eat, milk, more, and all done." I could babble on and on. I want him to understand how amazing Max is and that it's entirely his fault that he chose not to be part of it. I'm still angry, and rightly so, but I'm trying to be open for what is best for my son.

  It's a strange sensation knowing I share a child with this man. We made the little being playing between us. I feel uneasy, yet part of me knows that being here today, introducing Elan to his son is the right thing.

  It makes me sad realizing how many things Elan has missed. Max's birth, his baptism, his first birthday, his first steps. I blink back tears. At least he's here now. It's going to take a while for him to build a relationship with Max. But then I realize how that's not entirely true. Max and Pace bonded almost instantly. But then again, Pace got right down on the ground and interacted with him. Spoke to him and showed him things. Elan is sitting quietly beside me like he's confused. Maybe he's still in shock.

  I don't know why I keep thinking about Pace. As amazing as last night was, I've known from the start his world and mine don't mix. And now that Elan seems like he wants to be back in the picture, I'm more confused than ever.

  Chapter Ten

  Pace

  "What's new with you, man?" I ask Collins, tipping the bottle of beer to my lips. We've already covered the topics of work and recent stock market trends. Some emerging fund in Brazil has him all excited, and I'm only too happy to listen while he prattles on. I'm still trying to figure out a way to tell him about Kylie, because of course she's the only thing on my mind. Last night was off the fucking charts. I could barely look at her this morning without getting hard. I'd left pretty quickly to avoid embarrassing myself.

  "How's Tatianna?" I ask. I haven’t seen her around in a while, though I know as a top model, she travels often for work.

  He's gazing over at the musician's warming up at the jazz club he wanted to meet at. It's soon going to be a little too loud for conversation, but maybe that's what he intended. "Everything's good," he says, taking a drink from his glass.

  I get the sense there's more he wants to say, so I wait.

  He shrugs. "Sometimes, I don’t know. I get the sense that all I am to her is a padded bank account, and all she is to me is a warm pussy to sink into."

  "I didn’t know you were looking for anything serious," I say.

  "Yeah, I guess I'm not."

  He's not very convincing. He turned thirty this year, and I wonder if that has anything to do with his melancholy mood and rhetorical questions about the nature of his relationship.

  When I glance over at Collins, he looks a bit lost. Fuck. I suddenly find myself wishing Colton were here. He would know the right thing to say at a time like this.

  "Listen, if you're not happy, you can always break up with her, right?"

  "It's not that I'm unhappy. I just wonder if there's something more out there."

  "There is," I say with conviction.

  "You?" He turns to me suddenly, his mouth curling into a grin. "I didn’t ever think I'd see the day, little brother. Who is she?"

  "Kylie." Her name alone gives me a warm feeling. Christ, I'm in deep already.

  "The girl with the baby who works for Colton?"

  She is so much more than just a girl with a baby. Collins doesn't understand, but I know he will once he gets to know her. "Yes. She's the one."

  "The one? Wow." His eyes widen.

  I hadn’t meant it in those terms, but now that the thought is out there, I don't hate it. Shit, I could see it now all laid out before me. Holding her warm body in my arms every night, watching Max grow… I know I'm moving quickly, but this woman is not a flavor of the week. I'm usually a hit it once kind of guy, but with her, that never even crossed my mind. I want more. I want to stick around to see where this can go. It's entirely new and thrilling knowing there is more to discover.

  "Do you want to stay and order dinner?" Collins asks, signaling the waitress for another round of drinks.

  "Sure, just let me check on Kylie real quick. She broke her arm and is staying at my place."

  He raises his brow, but doesn’t say anything. I'm sure I'm shocking the hell out of him. I don't even bring hookups over to my place for an hour. Kylie could move in permanently, and I wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

  How are you holding up?

  I wait for her reply with my phone in my hand.

  Five minutes pass and nothing. Collins is reading the dinner menu, but my stomach is churning with unease. I dial her number, and it rings repeatedly until her voicemail picks up. I call twice more and still no answer. Something feels off.

  "Sorry about dinner, I think I'm going to have to split, man. Kylie's not picking up her phone, and I'm getting worried. I need to make sure something didn't happen to them."

  He nods. "Of course. Go. It's fine. We'll do dinner next week when Colton gets back."

  "Sure." Distracted, I rise to my feet, throw a couple of bills down onto the table and leave in a panic.

  The entire drive home, I curse at myself.

  She's got a broken arm for fuck's sake, and I left her alone with a one-year-old. What the fuck was I thinking?