Tell Me Lies (New England Bay Sharks #1)

Chapter 11

G radually, Amelia and I walk through the store. “What do you think your daddy would want?” I ask her.

“Hmm … maybe he wants a Highland cow,” she answers thoughtfully, and I can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of me.

“Yeah, I’m not sure about that, kiddo.” I shake my head. “But, hey, you never know. Maybe your love for those furry critters will rub off on him.”

Logan’s birthday is apparently today, but I just found out about it last night. I sent him a text this morning since he was gone before Amelia or I woke up. I kept it very, very simple. Just the words happy birthday with a balloon emoji. Because after what we did last night, I didn’t want to be over the top and make him scared that I was a stage-five clinger. Which is why this birthday present has to be from Amelia and not me.

Besides, what do you really buy a man who could buy himself anything he wanted? And he really doesn’t seem like the materialistic type to me.

It suddenly hits me that there aren’t a whole lot of pictures of Amelia and Logan at his place. So, I decide right then that I’m going to print and frame a few photos of our getaway to New Hampshire. I took the most adorable one of the two of them in Santa’s sleigh and another of them riding the carousel.

Those framed photos, a card from Amelia, and a homemade cake will hopefully make this birthday a good one.

I have to fight against rolling my eyes and snidely smirking at myself. I hate birthdays. Or at least, I hate my own. But I suppose that’s only because my father died on it. Before that? I loved birthdays. Hell, I was even one of those people who practically celebrated it for the entire month.

Swinging Amelia’s hand playfully, I grin down at her. “I think I know the perfect thing, but let’s hurry. The cake we made this morning should be cooled by now, so we need to get home and frost it before Daddy gets home from the arena.”

Her little legs take off, her hand tugging me with her, and we run through the aisle. She bursts into a fit of giggles, and warmth spreads across my chest because I have come to love that sound so much.

I know Logan and I can’t share anything romantic or deep. But he has helped me a tremendous amount with my writing—and not just from him inspiring spicy scenes, but also from how sweet he is all the time. He treats me with respect, just like the main male characters treat the females in my stories. Being around him—and his daughter too—well, it’s sort of opened my eyes back up to the world I used to believe in. And because of that, I want him to have the best birthday he possibly can.

My body aches, and my muscles are tired as I head toward the house from practice. I’m dreading the fact that I have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn tomorrow and go to New York for some publicity shit. Between being up too late last night and a long-ass day of training today, I’m beat. Staying up to fuck Maci into next week clearly wasn’t the smartest decision I’d made all week, but, heck, was it hot.

Turning the doorknob, I push the door open to the house, and right away, the sound of Amelia’s giggles melts away any fatigue I felt because, damn, I’ll never get tired of coming home to my girl. When I hear Maci sweetly tell her to be quiet, my heart does some weird fucking fluttery thing, and I shake it off because … fuck no, I can’t be feeling that type of shit around the nanny.

Fucking her is one thing; catching feelings for her is … a whole other ball game that I don’t even want to buy tickets to.

Dropping my bag, I take off my shoes and head toward the kitchen. As soon as I reach it, Maci pops up from behind the countertop with Amelia on her hip, both wearing party hats.

“Surprise!” they yell.

They blow on those annoying party favors that make too much noise, but they look too adorable for me to care. That’s really not what has me in pure, happy shock though. It’s that they’re wearing New England Bay Sharks jerseys. And when Maci bends to set Amelia down, I see Sterns across her back, making my heart pump faster than normal.

When Amelia barrels toward me, I bend and scoop her up. Clyde is right behind her, wiggling around, looking up at us. And of course, fucking drooling.

“Happy birthday, Daddy,” she says, beaming at me. “I love you so much.”

Call me a pussy, but tears cloud my vision because I have a kid old enough to understand it’s my birthday and to actually acknowledge it. It’s just … special.

My teammates would so call me a little bitch right now.

“Thank you, baby.” I kiss her cheek. “I love you too. The most.”

“Daddy, Daddy! Look at the cake we made you.” Her finger points excitedly at a chocolate-frosted cake sitting on the other counter. It has the number twenty-seven in the middle, along with a candle.

I look at Maci. “How’d you know how old I am?” I raise a brow.

“Google, Mr. Logan Sterns,” she says matter-of-factly. “You did an interview a few years ago and said your favorite cake was chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting. I sure hope you weren’t fibbing.”

She went to great lengths to get this day right for me, looking shit up about me on the internet.

I’ve never had a person do that. Granted, I’ve never tried to have it either. But most women come after me simply because of my connection to the letters NHL or the words professional athlete . She’s not looking at me like I’m her ticket out of anything or like I could get her famous. She just sees me as an actual human being, and, fucking A, it’s nice.

Pulling myself from that thought, I wink at her. “I love chocolate cake, and I love me some peanut butter frosting. Good job, Boston. This might be my best birthday yet.”

Her cheeks redden as she rounds the corner. “I didn’t know if you’d want family, friends, or teammates here. But we wanted you to have some sort of celebration.” She pauses, shifting around on her feet. “If you want to spend your birthday alone with Amy, I can make myself scarce for the night.”

“Hell—ooo.” I stop myself from being summoned to pay yet another quarter to Amelia’s nearly full jar. “And, no. I’m the birthday boy, and you aren’t allowed to go anywhere,” I tell her, throwing my arm around her shoulders. “Thank you.”

She relaxes, looking at Amelia. “Do you want to give Daddy his presents?”

My daughter wiggles in my arms, and I laugh as I set her down and watch her rush to the table.

“Daddy! Come sit down!” She climbs up into a seat.

I glance at Maci and shrug. “Guess I need to listen to the boss, huh?”

She nods, her lips forming a sarcastic frown. “Um … duh .”

Walking the few steps to the table, I take a seat at the head, and Amelia wastes no time pushing the blue-wrapped gifts toward me. Maci comes beside her, but doesn’t sit; instead, she stands and smiles softly.

Tearing off the gift wrap slowly, I look down at the first picture, and my entire chest grows warm and fluttery. I take in the photo of Amelia and me in that huge, gaudy sleigh at Santa’s Village. Her smile is enormous, and mine is even bigger.

And then I open the next gift; this one is of her sitting on one of the reindeer on the carousel ride. I’m next to her, my arm slung around her back to make sure she doesn’t fall off. Even though she told me ten times I didn’t need to hold on to her because she was a big girl. We both look so content, and then I think about the woman who took the pictures. Control freak or not, she made that entire day even better. Not just for Amelia, but for me too.

I guess I didn’t realize that we had been missing anything until she was around us all the time. And now, I can’t imagine not having her here.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “Thank you, ladies. I love them.” Leaning forward, I kiss Amelia on the forehead. “What do you say? Should we hang them up?”

She nods quickly before stopping. “Cake first, Daddy!”

“Girlfriend, how about dinner first?” Maci giggles, running her hand over Amelia’s hair.

“Fine,” she grumbles, putting her hands on her cheeks and making us both laugh harder. “I’m going to get Fruity and Tooty.”

When she slides from her seat, running toward her room for her stuffed Highland cows, I look at Maci.

“Come here,” I utter, tipping my head up.

“What?” she whispers, but her legs carry her toward me before I even answer.

Reaching my arm out, I wrap it around her waist and pull her toward me. Not so that she’s on my lap because I know Amelia is going to come back at any minute and I don’t want her to be confused, but enough so that I can pull Maci’s face toward mine.

Planting a kiss on her lips, I grin. “I’d say, in this chapter, you’d be the one people swoon over, Maci McKenzie.”

She surprises me when she kisses me this time, smiling against my lips. “Happy birthday, Logan. Thank you for letting me be a part of this day with you and your amazing kid.”

“You’re welcome,” I mutter. “But it’s my birthday, and for my last present, I want you in my bed with that jersey on and nothing else later.”

Her pupils grow a bit bigger, and she quickly sucks in a breath, but when she hears Amelia’s feet coming back down the hall, she straightens herself and takes a few steps away. For a moment, I just take her in because my eyes can’t stop looking at her in that Sharks jersey with my name on the back. Her jeans hug her thighs so perfectly, like they were painted on by the world’s most talented artist.

“What is for dinner anyway?” I ask as Amelia climbs onto my lap. The scent of something good hits my nose for the first time, and now, I have a second to think. “Because it smells amazing.”

“Your favorite!” Amelia squeals, and I wonder if she actually knows what my favorite food is or if she went ahead and chose pizza. Her favorite. “’Pagetti! We used Grammy’s recipe!”

My eyes shift to Maci’s, who suddenly looks uneasy. “So, your dad called the house this morning. He was afraid to call your cell in case you were in the middle of practice or training. Anyway, I told him Amelia wanted to help with your birthday dinner, and I asked if there was anything he could think of that you’d like.” She pauses, her eyes moving to the ground for a second before finding mine again. “He said you always asked your mom to make you spaghetti for your birthday each year, and then he gave me the recipe. I hope you don’t mind. I just … I wanted to make something you liked, but I understand if it’s too much.”

I don’t say anything right away because, honestly, everything she’s done for me tonight is more than anyone outside my family has done for me my entire life. And even with them, it’s never been this thoughtful.

“I should have asked you first.” She talks faster, her cheeks the reddest I’ve ever seen them as she takes a few steps backward. “I’m sorry, Logan.”

Gently, I set Amelia down and walk up to Maci. I don’t want to be too affectionate and throw Amelia off, but I also need Maci to understand that what she did … is incredible. And the closer I get to the pot on the stove, the more I realize just how much it smells like my mom’s recipe.

I put my hands on her shoulders. “Hey, listen to me. I love everything you and Amelia did for me today. And I love that you made me spaghetti with my mom’s recipe.” I smile at her. “I promise, Boston, tonight, I’m a very happy man.”

She swallows thickly. “Okay. Also, it’s probably not even going to taste like hers or be nearly as good. So … I’m sorry for that in advance.”

“It’s going to be perfect, Mace,” I utter, looking down at Amelia, who has now wedged her body between ours. “What do you say, baby girl? Ready to eat dinner so that we can dive into that cake?”

“Yes!” Amelia squeals.

“Good. Go get in your seat, and I’ll bring you your food,” I tell her, and she quickly pushes her way through our legs and rushes back to the table.

Maci waves toward the seats. “Go on and take a seat, birthday boy. I’ll even be nice and serve you tonight.”

Leaning closer, I bring my lips to her ear. “Oh, yeah? Are you going to serve me on your knees?”

Stepping back slowly, I eat up the suddenly dazed look on her face before heading to the table.

And whether or not she ends the night on her knees or in my bed, wearing that jersey … it’s the best birthday of my life. And all I needed was the two ladies who are right here.

“You know, you really don’t have to help me clean up your own birthday celebration,” I mutter at Logan as he loads the dishwasher.

I offered to read Amelia her bedtime story tonight, and she demanded we both read it together. And after she dozed off, I insisted on cleaning the kitchen—because let’s face it; I can clean it correctly—and he refused to let me do it without helping. It’s his birthday, and yet he wants to help.

And that’s why he really would be a top-tier book boyfriend if he lived within the pages of a book. But he doesn’t. He’s in the real-life freaking world. And that makes this thing we’re doing all that much more difficult.

“I know you can’t go to sleep with a mess like this,” he says softly. “So, I figured the quicker this gets cleaned up, the quicker I can have you in my bed.” He leans over me, grabbing a cup. “The jersey, sweet thing, it’s driving me fucking wild.”

“One of the things Maddie left behind,” I say, giving him an amused look when I gaze down at the hard bulge in his jeans. “Did she get the same sort of reaction?”

“Fuck no.” He scowls. “Don’t be gross. She was like … my sister.”

I try to hide the look on my face, but his answer gives me joy even though Maddie already told me something similar before she left. I guess, in some way, I always wondered if there ever was a spark or anything between them.

Closing the dishwasher, he grips my hips before spinning me around to face him. “What I really want is you. In my bed.”

“Really subtle, Sterns.” I shake my head. “Way to play it cool.”

“What can I say? That has never really been my thing,” he tosses back with a shrug.

“You don’t say?” I lean against the counter. “You had me last night. Multiple times.” I laugh lightly. “And I’m still sore.”

Dragging his thumb across my bottom lip, he dips his head closer. “Yeah? Is your mouth sore?”

I roll my eyes, looking completely unimpressed. “I’m not even going to answer that question, you idiot.”

“No?” He glides his hand into my hair, giving it a playful tug. “Why not?”

“Because you’re about to be a pervert—that’s why.”

“About to be?” he coos. “Baby, I’m always a pervert.”

Leaning forward, he drags his tongue up my neck, stopping at my ear. “Are you going to be a good girl and suck my dick for my birthday or what, Boston?”

My knees practically buckle at his words, and when he pulls his head back, his big eyes stare at me before he wets his lips.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Good answer,” he murmurs before sliding his thumb over my bottom lip again.

“I’m going to go set the alarm, and while I do, you’re going to go into my room and take off every fucking scrap of clothing”—he fists the jersey with his hand—“besides this. Understand?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Good girl. And when I come in, be on your knees next to my bed.”

Pushing myself off the counter, I step away from him and head for his room.

I kneel awkwardly next to his bed as I wait for him to come in. I know this thing between us is getting out of hand, but, good God, just like the sex-crazed chicks in my stories, once they’ve had a sweet taste of the main character … I crave him every second of the day.

The door opens, and I watch him come in, closing it behind him. He strips his jeans and briefs down before pulling his T-shirt over his head. He struts toward me, and every step he takes oozes of confidence. Here he is, completely exposed and bare, his steel cock on full display, standing straight out, and he couldn’t look more comfortable.

Walking around the bed, he stops just before me. His length is hard as he reaches for me, stroking my chin. “Wrap those beautiful lips right around my cock, Mace. Give me my last birthday present.” His hand moves down, gripping my neck. “I need to fuck that tight little throat of yours so fucking badly that I can’t think straight.”

I gradually bring my head closer to him, and it’s obviously not quick enough for what he needs because he grips the back of my head and pushes my head forward. When I part my lips, his length slides along my tongue smoothly, and even though I might have started off a bit shy, the sight of him gazing down at me, grinding his teeth together, takes any nerves from my body and demolishes them. I lick the tip of him before leaning closer and closer until he’s hitting the back of my throat. When I gag and try to pull back, his grip tightens, and he keeps me there, making me gag again.

When he releases me the slightest bit, I let my head fall back just enough to give my throat a break before diving back in. My mouth waters, creating its own lubrication for his hard cock to slide in and out of.

I gaze up at him as I pull back and run my tongue down his length before twirling it around the tip. Reaching up, I grab his thighs, keeping myself steady while I attempt to give him the best birthday blow job a man could ask for.

“I knew you’d look beautiful with my dick in your mouth,” he rasps. “Fucking masterpiece, Boston. That’s what you are.”

His praise always seems to get me even more excited and a lot more drenched, and when I suck harder and faster, he hisses and breathes out a throaty laugh.

“ Fuck me. That feels so good. Keep on sucking my dick with those magical lips, just like that, baby.”

I attempt to squeeze my thighs together to relieve the pressure that’s building simply from pleasuring him.

“You need me, don’t you?” His voice is deep and controlled. “I see you, sweet thing. I can tell you’re aching for me to fill you up and fuck you hard.”

I continue working him with my mouth, not wanting this to turn into something about me. It can’t always be that way in a story. Relationships—whether friendships, romantic, or in our case, strictly business and sex—are a two-way street. Both parties are equally important, yet so far, this man always wants to give. It’s my turn to give to him.

“Come on, Boston. Stop trying to play it off like that pussy of yours isn’t a little slut for my cock.” He pulls my head back, keeping only the tip of his length between my lips as he glowers down at me. “You need me to help you—admit it.”

I attempt to push forward and take more of him into my mouth again. The sting from his hold on my hair hurts, but I also kind of like the pain it’s providing right now. But it’s his strength that isn’t allowing me to do what I want to do.

It’s too soon for me to know if this is how Logan is. If he really is the guy who wants to please just as much as he wants to be pleased. But so far, all roads point to yes.

Finally, I let his dick fall from my mouth, my face turning into a pouty expression. “It’s your birthday, dammit. This chapter is supposed to be all about my female character giving to the guy. And now, you’re messing it all up!”

His gaze stays on mine for a moment, and like usual, I have no idea what could possibly come from his mouth next. He’s a bit of a wild card.

Suddenly, he gives me a devilish smirk. “Boston, you should know by now, watching you come is the greatest gift you could ever give me.” His eyes narrow. “You know what’s better than watching you come?”

Unsure, I say nothing back.

“ Tasting it,” he utters. He sits on the bed, lying down until he’s flat on his back. “Sit on my face while you suck my cock, Mace. That way, that slutty mouth can get what it wants—a mouthful of cum. And that greedy pussy can get my tongue shoved inside it.”

Pushing to my feet, within seconds, I situate my body until I’m hovering above him, but when it comes time for me to lower myself … I freeze. “I’m not really that light,” I mutter. “Thick thighs and all that …”

“Woman, it’s my motherfucking birthday, and all I want is for you to sit right on my face and let me eat my last birthday meal,” he growls. “So, put that pussy on my face. Now .”

Gripping my hips, he pulls me down onto his mouth. And the moment his tongue touches me, I lurch forward and take him into my mouth, letting him slip in and out erratically. As good as his mouth feels—and let’s face it; it feels incredible—it’s making it extremely hard for me to suck him the way I know he deserves.

My hips involuntarily roll, bucking against his face. He doesn’t seem to mind as he grips my waist, digging his fingertips into my flesh and flicking his tongue against me, making me more soaked.

I lean forward further, and he jerks his hips upward, thrusting his incredibly hard length down my throat.

“Fuck. Yes. Keep sucking on my cock, just like that,” he grunts from between my legs. “Just. Like. That.”

Suddenly, his tongue slips further back, grazing my ass, and I pull upward, trying to get away. He’s too strong though, and he slams me back down onto his lips and does it all over again before burying his tongue deeper inside my heat.

I somehow feel him everywhere. Every cell in my body is at his mercy because what he’s doing feels so damn good. Not to mention, having his steel cock sliding in and out of my mouth makes it all even hotter.

“Bounce on my face, sweet thing,” he growls. “Give this greedy little pussy what it wants.”

Once again, I’m afraid to hurt him. I’m average in size, but my thighs are far from toothpicks—something my ex liked to mention a lot.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Boston,” his husky voice grunts. “Ride my fucking face while you keep my cock between those lips. Let my tongue destroy this pussy while I fuck that throat.”

My hips begin rolling faster and faster, and my ass bounces against his face. His tongue slides back again, but this time, I don’t fight it. His hips lift over and over, gagging me with each thrust, but I take it. No, I love it.

I moan against his cock, knowing I’m about to spiral, about to fly off the ledge and lose myself. He feels it, too, because his tongue quickly works slower and deeper. Like he knows that’s what I need without me having to tell him.

Just as my body tingles and a feeling of pure euphoria floods my entire being, his salty seed shoots into the back of my throat with a jerk of his hips, and I swallow all he gives me, hungrily ready for more.

“Good girl,” he utters, still twitching. “Now, be an even better one and lick my cock clean.”

I swirl my tongue around his tip one last time before pulling back.

He moans out a low growl. “Such a good fucking girl, Boston,” he praises me, making my insides quiver once again. He reaches up and gives my hair a little tug. “So good for me.”

Scooching off of him, I look at him bashfully, like I didn’t just hump his face while I had his length in my mouth.

I keep my arm around Maci’s body, holding her close to me. For the first time since becoming a dad, I’m not rushing a woman out of my bed. In fact, I don’t want her to leave right now. Most hookups I’ve had were strictly out of pure need to get off, but the second we both came, I couldn’t get away from them quick enough. Of course, I’d never make it noticeable that being around someone intimately made my skin crawl. I don’t ever want to hurt anyone’s feelings, especially a female. But it’s different with Maci, and it’s starting to freak me the fuck out.

“I hope you had a good birthday, Mr. Sterns,” she murmurs against my abdomen.

I mindlessly run my fingers through her hair before skating them down the flesh of her back. “Spaghetti that tasted just like my mama’s used to, my favorite cake, pictures of me and Amelia, and you in my jersey?” I pause, my grin growing. “And then I got to end the night with my dick in your mouth and my tongue inside of you?” I give her back a pat. “Yeah, Boston, it was a pretty damn good birthday, I’d say.”

“Good,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my flesh. “I won’t lie; I was scared to make the sauce. I was nervous that I’d butcher her recipe. I wanted to do it justice.”

“It was perfect, Boston. I mean that,” I tell her, meaning every word. “Kind of felt like she was here again, to be honest. And that felt pretty damn good.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she says softly. “Sounds like she was a pretty incredible woman.”

A slight pain spreads through my chest as her words sink in. Talking about my mom is something I try to do with Amelia—after all, she’s named after my mother—but, fuck, it hurts.

“She was.” I nod slowly. “I never realized how many little—and big—things she constantly did for us until she was gone.” I swallow. “For a while after she died, my dad mentally checked out. And, well, let’s just say, I wish I could have told her sooner just how much I appreciated everything she did. That lady made our entire family’s world go round. And she somehow knew what each of us needed. Figuring all of that out took me a while after she passed—and I fucked up a lot for a long time—but eventually, I channeled my inner Amelia, and got it together.”

“Tell me about your brothers,” she whispers, giving me a small smile.

A grin tugs at my lips. They each might be a pain in my ass, but I love my three brothers and want nothing but the best for them.

“First in the lineup is Carter. He’s the opposite of Link. Wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t afraid to tell it like it is, even if it’s not what others want to hear. To be honest, that made it easier for me to navigate being there for him. He knew what he needed, unlike me and Link. And then there’s me. Then Link. He’s the type to suffer in silence. He’ll pretend he’s fine, and I think, sometimes, even he believes it. So, we all had to find a way to be there for him on his terms after we lost Mom. And then there’s the baby of the family, Travis. He’s also the brain of the four of us—probably all put together actually. He’s the quiet one but would give the shirt off his back to any stranger.”

I think back to my baby brother crying at her bedside on the day she died and feel that stabbing sensation in my heart again. “He took losing her really hard.” I laugh lightly, wiping my eyes. “When you’re the baby, I think you hold a special place in your mom’s heart.” I inhale sharply, knowing I’m rambling, and yet this woman sits here, listening to every word without interrupting. “I don’t know how she did it all, but she did. And she never once complained.”

“What about you? You told me what the others were like. I want to know who Logan Sterns is.”

“After my mom died, I just wanted to make everyone smile again. Or I tried to anyway. So, I kind of became the funny one.” I close my eyes for a second. “I told jokes and did stupid shit to lighten the mood. It didn’t work for a long time, but I didn’t know what else to do.” I shrug. “This is all I am. A stupid-acting goon who hates seeing the people he loves sad.”

When I wipe a tear away from my eye before it has the chance to fall down my cheek, Maci instantly notices, resting a hand on my abdomen. “I’m sorry, Logan. I hope me making the sauce didn’t upset you or make you sad on your birthday.”

I sigh. “Nah, it’s not that. I just wish I had a time machine that could take me back. I might not have been able to save her, but I could have been nicer to her in the weeks—even months—before she passed.” I scrub my hand down my face. “Just had a lot of anger and resentment, I guess.”

“What do you mean?” She speaks softly, but I can sense she’s confused.

“For a while, when she first found out her cancer was back, she and Dad kept it a secret from us kids.” Even years later, the agony of saying the words out loud still pierces my soul. “I know she did it to protect us kids. She knew she didn’t have long, and there was nothing the doctors could do, I’m sure. But, Christ, I just wish I had known sooner. I would have treated her so much better than I did.” My voice cuts out. “I didn’t know she was fucking dying.”

She looks at me for a moment, her beautiful green eyes burning into mine. “I know exactly what it feels like to wish more than anything that you could take something back. I don’t have the words to make it better, but I will say this: if something happened to you, would you want Amy to feel the pain and guilt that you do?”

“Fuck no,” I say instantly.

She gives me a sympathetic smile and presses a kiss to my chest. “I don’t think your mom would want you to either.”

When she lays her head back down, I just sit there, stunned for a few minutes. Stunned that her words could have such an impact, but truthfully, I never considered it like that. But I’m also shocked as hell that I’m opening up about all of this. This isn’t something I do—ever.

Eventually, she sits up a bit. “I should get going to bed. It’s late. And you have to be on the road pretty early tomorrow for that publicity thing in New York.”

When she starts to move away, I grab her arm. “Stay with me,” I utter, not wanting to let her go. Not yet anyway.

Tomorrow night, I’ll be in New York, all alone, while she and Amelia are back here at home. For now, I just want to keep Maci in my bed.

Her expression changes to an almost-frustrated look. “Don’t you think that will overcomplicate things?” she murmurs. “Us having sex? That’s one thing. Sharing a bed?” She shrugs, narrowing her eyes. “Is that really something you want to do, Logan?”

“Yes,” I answer with zero hesitation. “It’s my birthday. And I want you in my bed tonight.”

Her eyes roam my face—searching for any hesitation, I’m sure. But finally, she sighs. “All right,” she says, nodding once. “Fine.”

As she lies back down, curling her body into mine, I run my hand over her hair. “Also, I can’t deal with this heavy, sad, emotional shit anymore. So, I want one more thing. You know, for my birthday.”

She runs her fingertips across my skin in a stroking rhythm. “Yeah, what’s that?”

“Will you answer five questions about yourself for me?” I put it out there, hoping she’ll agree because, after all, I am the birthday boy.

“One,” she tosses back.

“Four,” comes from my mouth rapidly.

“Two,” she says with a small giggle.

“Three.”

“Fine,” she groans. “Go on. Ask away, Mr. I Love Baths More Than Showers.”

I tilt my head down to look at her. “How much of that interview did you read?”

“The whole thing,” she singsongs, giving my stomach a pat. “Kind of a douche five years ago, weren’t you?” She looks up at me, raising a brow.

“Um, no,” I lie, knowing damn well I used to be one cocky fucker. “Anyway, it’s not your birthday, Miss McKenzie; it’s this guy’s.” I point to myself, proving there’s still a little douche inside of me, even though my daughter ridded me of most of it. “Question one, when did you start writing?”

“When I was nineteen,” she says proudly. “I had no clue what I was doing, and I was terrified my family—especially my mom because she’s a pretty reserved woman—was going to see the dirty book I had written. But I self-published it anyway.” She chuckles. “It’s funny now because the spice in that book was nothing compared to the ones that came after it. The older I got …”

“The dirtier you got?” I tease her, giving her body a teeny jiggle in my arm. “Mama McKenzie had better not read the one you’ve been writing lately. She’ll think her baby girl needs to find Jesus.”

“It’s not my fault you were supposed to help me with my spicy scenes and you decided to take it ten steps too far.” She shrugs. “Mama might not appreciate it, but my readers sure will.”

“Damn right, they will.” I grin proudly because … you’re welcome, readers. “And you love it—writing?”

Her chin rests on my chest now, and she looks up at me. “I did. And then … I didn’t for a while. At least, it felt that way.”

“And now?”

“I’m getting there again.” She doesn’t stop the smile that spreads from ear to ear. “And I have to say, it feels nice. It feels nice to have to force myself to go to sleep at night when all I want to do is type.”

“How close is the book from being finished?”

Her eyes roll upward, and she cringes. “Oh, I still have a long, long way to go. I’m only about halfway done writing it, and I know it needs a lot of cleaning up.”

“But you’re happy with it?” I ask, not knowing if I’m even talking about the damn book anymore or reality. “With how it’s going so far?”

“Just so you know, all these questions count toward your total, so now, you’re well past the agreed-upon three.”

“What? No.” I poke her playfully. “You cut it out. Those all are connected to my first question, and you know it.”

She eyes me over for a second before she bobs her head up and down once. “Yeah, I am. And I think my readers will be too.” She barks out a laugh. “And hopefully, my publicist, Holly, is too. She’s the toughest critic for sure.”

I’ve heard her mention Holly a few times. It seems like they check in with each other often via text and email. “How long have you worked with her?”

“Since my very first book,” she says with a warm smile. “I had saved every penny from my summer job to hire an editor for my first book. I had no idea how to promote the thing, but my incredible editor hooked me up with Holly. I figured there was no way I could afford a publicist, but Holly took me under her wing. She made it work for me until my book started earning money.” Her eyes grow glossy. “She believed in me, even when I didn’t have a freaking clue what I was doing.”

“She sounds like a helluva woman,” I say tenderly. “And awfully smart because she believed in you.”

“Thanks,” she says before lifting her head from my chest. “You know, when I first told her I was going to be nannying, she was so pissed. I hadn’t written anything in forever, and then I dropped the bomb that I was trying a new career path.” She pauses, a thoughtful look filling her face. “And then I told her who I was nannying for. And that changed everything.”

“Sharks fan?” I utter, continuing to play with her hair.

“Logan Sterns fan,” she says, correcting me. “And let’s just say, her marketing brain went with the whole nanny and hockey player thing and ran with it.” Amusement is written all over her face. “I haven’t sent her what I’ve written just yet because when I do, she’s going to freak out.” She stops. “With joy, I mean. She’s all about the spice. And according to her … hockey is hot right now in the book world.”

“Fucking right, it is.” I nod proudly. “All right, question two.” I swallow, somehow nervous about this one. “You were engaged before, right?”

Her body hardens in my arms, and she drops her head back to my chest, looking away from me. “Yes.”

“You still love him?” I utter, forcing the words out because, for some reason, I fucking need to know.

“No,” she says curtly. “Looking back, I don’t really know if I ever did. And to be honest, I don’t think he ever actually loved me either.”

There’s a hint of sadness in her voice that can’t be missed, and her body slumps just enough for me to notice.

“Why would you think that?”

She drags in a breath before slowly letting it out. The silence says everything I need to know—this dude hurt her. I don’t even know him, yet I already want to bash his head into a glass window.

“Because he could never actually stand me,” she whispers sadly. “I was always too much. Too type A. Too organized. Too focused on my career. Too driven. Too … successful.” I feel her swallow as she pauses. “I wasn’t fun enough. I didn’t dress sexy enough or make him feel wanted enough.” Her body shivers in my arms. “I was never enough, even though I was too much in so many ways.”

Reaching down, I force her to look at me. “You listen to me,” I say sharply. “He sounds like a tool who was jealous of his queen’s success instead of embracing it.” I brush my thumb along her cheek. “He sounds like a loser, Boston. You are enough—I promise you that.” The next words hurt to come out, burning my chest even though they shouldn’t. But they’re words I need her to hear. “One day, I swear to you that a real man will come along and show you that. But to be honest, you don’t need a man. Because you can take care of yourself.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and she tries to jerk her head away, but I don’t let her. Knowing she’s had enough of me poking into her past for one night, I give her a choice.

“I have two options for you, Boston. One, you answer my final question.” I drag my thumb over her lip. “Or two, you can climb onto my cock and ride me until my cum is dripping out of you and onto the sheets so heavily that we need to wash them before we can sleep.”

Lifting her chin, she gives me a defiant look. “Well, option two, of course.” Her voice is low and husky.

Within seconds, she’s on my lap as my cock quickly turns to steel, knowing what’s next.

And she sinks down onto my length and fucks me.

And, yeah, my birthday ends with a fucking bang.