Then she nipped my bottom lip and patted my chest twice before taking a step back, out of my reach.
I had to force myself not to grab her around the waist, tug her back into me, and kiss the hell out of her, just for a little while longer. Like…maybe another hour or two. We wouldn’t be missed during that time, would we?
I had no idea when I’d stop craving my wife every goddamn second of every goddamn day, but if history was anything to go by, the answer to that was never.
I’d never get sick of calling Quinn mine.
I huffed out a pained laugh, hanging my head as I willed my dick to calm the fuck down. “The last thing on my mind is this game, kitten. All I’m thinking about is getting you naked as soon as fucking possible. When will that be, by the way?”
She bit her lip, her eyes heating for a moment as she stared at me, and I thought I had her. Thought she was going to tip her head toward the bathroom and drag me inside to let me have my way with her. But instead, she spun around and headed toward the field. Over her shoulder, she said, “How about the winner gets to decide our evening activities?”
“By evening activities, do you mean how I’m going to fuck you?” When her only answer was a raised brow at me, I laughed lowly and swiped a thumb across my bottom lip, my eyes glued to the sway of those luscious hips as she walked away from me. “In that case, you better be ready to lose, wife, because I already know exactly what I’m going to do when I win.”
And it involved her naked and bound to the bed while I tormented her with the new toy that had arrived in the mail today.
So, yeah, there was no fucking way our team was losing.
Even if this was the first play-off for the clinic’s team. Even if I was so fucking proud of her, I couldn’t bear it. Going easy on her wasn’t what she needed from me. Wasn’t what our relationship had ever been about. We’d pushed each other from the beginning—forced each other to strive for more—and that wasn’t going to stop now. Even as I smiled, watching my wife greet her team, the kids sporting jerseys that proclaimedSponsored by Dr. Quinn McKenzie.
Because yeah…that shit was permanent.
Where she’d once balked at taking my last name, it had ultimately been an easy decision for her once we’d decided this was forever. She’d wanted a clean break after cutting her parents out of her life, and keeping her last name would never allow her to do that.
Quinn had looked into sponsoring a team as soon as she’d purchased the clinic—a purchase that had been far easier than either of us had anticipated. It turned out not even Don’s wife liked the jackass, and the poor woman had been married to him for forty years. She’d reached out to Quinn barely a week after his death to discuss my wife’s offer that, apparently, had been tossed in his trash can.
No one had been more shocked than Quinn when Mrs. Dinsmore had not only agreed to sell her the clinic, but to do so at a much lower price than what Quinn had offered. But the biggest surprise had come when she’d told my wife she’d sold it to her specificallybecauseDon had fought so hard against it.
Yep. My wife had been rewarded for putting up with that asshole every day for months by getting his practice in the end, all because he hadn’t wanted her to have it in the first place. And if that wasn’t karma, I didn’t know what was.
I strolled down to the dugout, grin on my lips as I figured out how we were going to win this game. Normally, Aiden was on that—focused to a fault when it came to…well, everything. But today, he was distracted. And not quite as surly as he stared out at the kids on the field practicing their throws. He also hadn’t yelled at me once, even for sneaking away to fuck off with my wife. He didn’t—
My mouth dropped open as I eyed him from head to toe. He stood there in his usual uniform of gray dress pants and a white button-up, the sleeves rolled up, his eyes focused on the kids practicing on the field. But there was something different about him. He had an air to him that only came from—
“Holy shit,” I said, splitting my gaze between him and Brady, who sat on the bench in the dugout. “You got laid.”
Aiden snapped his head in my direction, the briefest flicker of shock registering across his face before he wiped it clear of any expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I barked out a laugh and shook my head. “Sure you don’t. There’s no use trying to deny it. I can sniff that shit out like a bloodhound. Can’t I?” I asked Brady, gesturing with my chin toward our lying brother who mostdefinitelygot some action last night. And it was about fucking time.
“You do kind of have something going on there,” Brady said, circling his own face as he stared at Aiden. “Is this because of the woman you told me about?”
His gaze shot to Brady. “Dude.What the fuck.”
“Oh, this is too good. What woman?” I asked, rubbing my hands together. “Tell me more. Tell meeverything.”
But instead of saying anything, Aiden just split a glare between Brady and me, his arms crossed over his chest as if that would protect him from my interrogation.
Not fucking likely.
“Was it theI can call you Daddy, toosingle mom? Is that why you don’t want to talk about it right now?”
Aiden’s jaw ticked, and he didn’t even glance over at me as he said, “No, it wasn’t with that woman. I know better than to get involved with someone who would make my life difficult. And I don’t want to talk about it right now because A) we’re surrounded by a bunch of little kids and their parents—”
“One of whom is desperate to call you Daddy…”
“And B) it’s none of your fucking business.”
“Oh no. You’re the one who showed up at this game with yourI just got laidface on, thus making it my business.” I shrugged. “I could also make it Addison’s business if you wanted… She’ll be here any minute.”
