Toast Malone expels a low groan after finishing the last of his slice, flopping onto his side and stretching languorously. And I have to slap a hand over my mouth to stop the laugh that tries to bubble up from the back of my throat because honestly, this dog. He’s such a vibe.
“Good doggy,” Lucky croons, moving in next to Toast and smoothing her hand down the length of his body.
Happy mutters something under his breath, meeting my eyes with a smile he tries so hard to contain before tugging his shirt up and over his head, tucking it into the waist of his shorts. And I’m suddenly caught off guard by the unexpected sight of his glorious body presented right in front of me like a buffet of muscles contorting beneath taut, sweat-sheened skin.
While Lucky continues stroking Toast, Happy steps closer until we’re almost touching, the abs stacked in his torso contracting with the breaths he’s finally starting to control, all while I try to look anywhere but directly at the goods.
“Keep looking at me like that, Baby Draper,” he warns so close I feel the whisper of air from his lips fanning against my cheek right in the ache between my thighs. And God damn him. I’m forced to spear him with a half-assed glower because it’s hardly the time, or the place to get me this worked up.
CHAPTER 29
HAPPY
Fuck, I love the way she reacts. How with just a few whispered words, my lips barely grazing the shell of her ear, her whole body responds with the tiniest of shudders I doubt anyone else can see.
My dick twitches, and I step away from Hannah, putting a few feet of much-needed distance between us as I flip my baseball cap backwards and glance down to where Lucky is kissing the top of Toast Malone’s head. The damn dog has the audacity to peer up at me and smile, his tongue hanging out with a few panting breaths. Cocky jerk.
“Should we get outta here before, I don’t know, Toast Malone starts snatching purses?”
Hannah laughs.
Toast snorts.
Lucky stands up, her little face fraught with sudden panic that makes my stomach knot. “What’s up, baby girl?” I crouch down.
“Can Hannah come to our house?” she asks hopefully.
I look up at Hannah, speaking directly to her. “If… Hannahwantsto come to our house she can, of course.”
Lucky spins around. “Please come.”
Hannah smiles from Lucky to me and back again, nodding. “I can come for a little while.”
“A lot while?” Lucky counters with a cheeky grin.
Hannah laughs. “We’ll see how long it takes for Toasty to outstay his welcome.”
Hannah’s little while turned into all afternoon. Not that I’m complaining; hell, she could move all her stuff in here and never leave and I’d be happy with that. Shit. I’m a goner.
After we got back from the park, I ordered us some sandwiches that we ate up on the roof, in Lucky’s secret garden. When an afternoon storm rolled in and the rain settled over the city for the foreseeable future, we played a thousand games of Uno, Lucky beating us every single time in that cheaty way kids do. And now, here I am, perched on the toilet in Lucky’s bathroom, my hair in pig tails on top of my head while Hannah and Lucky take turns painting glittery pink shit all over my face.
“He needs more eyeshadow,” Lucky says.
“I agree,” Hannah responds.
I groan.
“Daddy, you look beautiful,” Lucky assures me, her small hand cupping my jaw.
“Thanks, baby.” I smile.
“Yeah, the glitter really brings out the gold in your eyes.”
At Hannah’s words, I open my eyes then, meeting hers, finding her smirking at me, a tiny brush covered with blue glitter poised between her thumb and forefinger. Sneakily, out of view of my daughter, I glide my hand up around the back of her thigh, playfully swatting her ass. She jumps at the contact, her eyes flaring, gaze flitting to Lucky, who is far too enamored by the palette of pink lip glosses on her lap to notice that my hand is currently squeezing Hannah’s plump ass cheek through these fucking leggings that have been taunting me all goddamn day.
“Oh, I like the blue!” Lucky gasps, leaning in so close our noses are almost touching.
“Want me to do you next?” Hannah asks, and the really inappropriate part of my brain thinks things it absolutely shouldn’t be thinking when my five-year-old kid is right here in front of me.
