Who's Your Daddy?

by Gallagher, Lauren

  I exhaled hard and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands.

  Falling in love wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. I wasn’t supposed to ache for not one but two men who I couldn’t have.

  It did. I did.

  Chapter Twenty

  Donovan

  My woman.

  I clung to the steering wheel as Carmen’s apartment faded in the rearview and the ghost of my own voice sent another shiver down my spine. The fierce protectiveness that had brought those words to my tongue had come out in anger, but was that all it was? Where did being protective of my best friend and the mother of my child or stepchild end? At what point did it become stepping over a line and getting territorial?

  It didn’t matter. I had stepped over that line. Carmen wasn’t my possession, my territory, anything of the sort, but she was…

  I flinched.

  My woman.

  The words had slipped almost unnoticed off my lips when they were spoken, but now, after being in her bed, it was like the feverish sex had solidified what I’d said. Like I’d known how I felt about her, but after we’d made love—and there was no denying that was exactly what we’d done—I couldn’t pretend I was anything less than in love with her.

  Nor could I shake the guilt that I had just betrayed Isaac in the deepest possible way.

  All the way home, I was a nervous wreck. One minute, I held the steering wheel as tight as I could to keep my hands from shaking. The next, I drummed my fingers on the console. Moments later, I white-knuckled the wheel and clenched my teeth so hard it hurt. Guilt gnawed at me from the inside out.

  I could have sworn the road between Carmen’s place and mine was longer, but before I knew it, I’d reached the turn that would take me into the cul de sac where Isaac waited for me. Gritting my teeth, I kept going, right past the turnoff. Just a few more minutes, that was all I needed. Circle the block once, twice, a half dozen times. Whatever it took to get my head around this. Or at least try to.

  I was angry with myself, and when I was angry with anyone, I stayed the hell away from everyone. I’d walked out on plenty of arguments with Isaac, which frustrated him to no end. He always thought I was just avoiding the issue, but it wasn’t that. I wasn’t afraid of uncomfortable conversations or difficult subjects or anything like that. What I was afraid of was my own frustration. Of those moments when the stress—whether I was angry or simply buckling under the weight of the world—became too much, and I could feel the last threads fraying before I’d lose my temper.

  I was so afraid of turning into my dad.

  Whether he was angry with me or just stressed about something, my father could so easily shift from being loud and angry to downright, uncontrollably violent. I would never raise a hand to Ryan or Isaac. I wasn’t a violent person, but in moments of blind fury, when emotions got the best of me and I lost control, I’d heard my father’s words come out of my mouth. And not just his words. It was no mystery why I’d learned, at a very young age, the fine art of seamlessly patching fist-sized holes in drywall.

  I was terrified of losing my head when everything became too much, and everything had been too much for quite some time now. A new baby on the way. My teenager testing my patience from across a chilly divide I didn’t know how to bridge, a divide that had widened since he learned about his newest half-sibling. A longtime relationship that had sort of become a three-way thing and was now…it was…fuck, I didn’t know what was going on. I was in love with two people who couldn’t possibly understand that I felt the same for both of them, and I was furious with myself for letting it get to this point.

  I took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. I had to face Isaac sooner or later. Angry at myself or not, I couldn’t just keep circling the block for however long it took to work this out. This wasn’t going to be quick or easy to sort out. Not even a little bit. It wasn’t like I could just walk away from her to preserve my relationship with him. Carmen was my closest friend, someone I didn’t want to lose, but even if I had to sacrifice our friendship to save my relationship, the baby meant we were part of each other’s lives now. All of us.

  Which meant this was too fucking complicated for words.

  Sighing, I finally turned and drove into our cul de sac. I pulled up in front of the house and put the car in park. For a moment, I just stared at the soft glow coming from the living room window, the faint light that said Isaac was probably still up. For the first time in I didn’t know how long, I wasn’t so sure I could face him.

  But I had to. Sooner or later, I had to.

  Sighing, I killed the engine and got out. At the front door, I squared my shoulders, whispered a silent prayer that Isaac could and would forgive me, and walked in.

  As I took off my jacket in the kitchen, Isaac came in from the family room.

  He set a mostly empty wine glass on the counter and kissed my cheek. “How did it go?”

  From bad to worse to something I don’t think I can dig myself out of. I swallowed. “Carmen’s parents. Take a guess.”

  He grimaced. “That bad?”

  I nodded, ignoring how dry my mouth had become. “They didn’t take it well.”

  “So, what happened?”

  I took her back to her place, slept with her like I should only be sleeping with you, and— I cleared my throat. “I don’t think her parents like me anymore.”

  He laughed dryly. “Not when they think you’re the guilty party who knocked up their daughter, no, I don’t imagine so.”

  “Well, there is that…” I chewed my lip.

  “Donovan, what did you do?” The playful accusation in his voice drew a quiet laugh out of me.

  “I might have told her parents to get off her back.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I leaned against the counter, folding my arms loosely across my chest. “Her mom outright called her a whore, and her dad jumped on Carmen for standing up for herself. So I—” My woman. I reached up to scratch the back of my neck, masking a shiver. “So I gently suggested they both pick their words a little better.”

  “Gently?” Isaac chuckled. “By whose definition?”

  “Well, maybe not by the most traditional definition…”

  “You didn’t deck the man or anything, did you?”

  “No.” I grinned. “See? Gentle.”

  He laughed and rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh.” Then he rested his hands on the counter and cocked his head. “How is she doing?”

  “She’s…okay.” My cheeks burned, and I doubted there was any point even trying to hide the color rushing into them. “I, um, made sure her night ended on a positive note, let’s put it that way.”

  Isaac smiled. “Good, I’m sure she needed it.”

  “Yeah.” I dropped my gaze. “She did.”

  After a moment, he said, “You all right? You went quiet all of a sudden.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. Where to start? I was never great at finding the words to awkward, uncomfortable conversations. I didn’t have the extensive training or the innate gift Isaac had for knowing what to say and when, but I wondered if even he could figure this one out.

  Then again, he probably wouldn’t have gotten himself this tangled up to begin with.

  Maybe talking wasn’t the right approach. Not this minute, anyway.

  I cleared my throat. “I think I could go for a shower.” With a great deal of effort, I met his eyes again. “Want to join me?”

  His smile was alarmingly slow to form, the corners of his mouth hesitating to creep upward, but he did finally smile. “I’m always game for that.”

  “You sure?” I asked, only half joking.

  “Absolutely.” He pushed himself away from the counter. “You’re not too tired, are you?”

  “Isaac,” I said, grinning, “I’m never too tired for you.”

  The water had barely touched my skin before he was against me, and I kissed him like we hadn’t been near each other in months. I sought his tongue with my own, and
he returned my kiss with equal desperation, pulling the breath right out of my lungs.

  Hot water rushed over both of us but not between us. Our bodies were too close together, touching everywhere we could. My fingers grasped his soaked hair. His held my hips, keeping me against him so I could feel just how hard his cock was against my own.

  He pushed me up against the wall, hot water still pouring over us as my skin made contact with the cool tile. He clasped my hands in his and pinned them to the wall beside my head—just like Carmen did in bed, oh God—and bent to kiss my neck.

  His skin. Cold tile. Hot water.

  Then his free hand slid between us, and I couldn’t even think when he closed his fingers around my cock.

  “Jesus, Isaac, I…” His lips met mine before I could finish my thought, but the words didn’t matter. I couldn’t even remember how to kiss him now, let alone why I’d been worried he’d turn me away. All I knew was how much I loved the taste of his kiss and how good his hand felt stroking my cock.

  Jesus, Isaac, don’t stop, that is so fucking—wait, why are you stopping?

  He broke the kiss, leaving me confused, disoriented, almost panicking, but only for the split second it took for him to drop to his knees in front of me. Just as I found the intense focus needed to draw a breath, his lips were around my cock, and I was completely at his mercy.

  His lips and tongue moved slowly, gently, as if tasting every inch of my cock the way he’d done my kiss, and the sensation was so intense, my eyes welled up. My balance wavered and my fingers tightened their grasp on the shower door rail, though I couldn’t remember reaching for it in the first place.

  My other hand hovered beside me, opening and closing, searching for something to cling to. With no conscious bidding on my part, it found his hair and held on. The steady movement beneath my hand was an echo of the more intense movement of his mouth on my cock, and it turned me on that much more.

  His tongue circled the head of my cock, and I gasped, the room spinning as I took my first breath in God only knew how long. My fingers twitched in his hair, and when I looked down at him, watching him slowly, slowly suck my cock, his eyes flicked up and met mine, and I was gone.

  My knees buckled, and my voice—cursing, saying his name, cursing again—echoed off the walls of…whatever room we were in. Wherever the hell we were. Didn’t care, because he didn’t stop, and the more he sucked my cock, the more I came and the more my vision blurred and the less I could stay on my feet.

  “Oh my God,” I moaned. “Jesus, Isaac…” As he stood, I leaned against the wall for balance, silently begging my knees to stay under me.

  Without a word, he cradled my neck in both hands and kissed me. My head was already spinning from that orgasm, but his incredible kiss made the world shift beneath me. Though he was breathless, almost feverish with arousal, his kiss was still gentle. Even this kiss that tasted of my own semen was sensual and tender.

  His cock pressed against my hip, and I pulled him closer. How many times we’d made love over the years, it was impossible to count, but tonight I wanted him just like it was the first time. The more he moaned, the more his body responded to my touch, the more I wanted him deep inside me.

  I reached between us.

  “Fuck,” he whispered, touching his forehead to mine and exhaling as I stroked him slowly.

  “Like that?”

  “Of course I do.” He bit his lip. “Your hands are on me. What’s not to—fuck, Donovan…”

  I buried my face against his neck, inhaling as much of his scent as the shower had left for me. With every kiss and stroke, I wanted him to know. I wanted him to know without a doubt he was the only man for me. I loved him so much it hurt, and I wanted him to know that even when I couldn’t say it.

  “Let me fuck you,” he said. “God damn it, I want you so bad.”

  I shivered. “Why don’t we go back in the bedroom, then?” I raised my head and let my lips graze his. “So we have more room to move.”

  A growl emerged from the back of his throat, and he kissed me.

  Somehow, we turned off the water and found the presence of mind to make a half-assed effort to dry off. My heart pounded harder and my head spun with need for him, and I finally just dropped my towel on the bathroom floor, grabbed his wrist and led him into the bedroom.

  We stumbled across the bedroom floor until I bumped into the mattress. Then he shoved me onto the bed, and I dragged him down with me. I wrapped my arms around him, he slid his under my back, and we both held on for dear life.

  With him on top of me like this, kissing me desperately and pressing his cock against my hip, I was fucking delirious with lust. Our skin was still just wet enough for his cock to slide back and forth without creating any unpleasant friction, and when he groaned softly, I moved my own hips to counter the motions of his. The groan turned to a helpless sound, and his kiss was so hungry it bordered on violent.

  All at once, he stopped. “I need to fuck you.”

  I shivered. “Please do.”

  He kissed me lightly, then pushed himself up and practically lunged for the nightstand.

  I started to turn so I could get on my hands and knees, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

  “Not like that,” he whispered. “On your back.”

  I relaxed onto the bed again. That wasn’t how he usually liked it, but I wasn’t going to argue with him.

  He poured some lube on his hand. As he stroked it onto his cock, he looked at me. “I want to see your face. You know that turns me on.”

  “Likewise.”

  His hand moved slowly back and forth, smoothing the lube all over his cock, and the strokes mesmerized me. Made my mouth water. Made my hands shake and my heart pound and Jesus, I needed him inside me now.

  And evidently we were on the same wavelength, because a heartbeat before I would have grabbed him and demanded his cock, he moved into position. I parted my legs for him, he guided himself to me, and that first touch of cool lube almost drove me to madness.

  “Oh God,” he growled as the head of his cock slid into me. I clawed at the bedsheets, back arching off the bed, losing my mind as he took that first long, deep stroke as slowly as humanly possible. All the way in, buried to the hilt, he paused. Then he withdrew, and the farther he pulled out, the faster my heart pounded with irrational panic that he was going to pull all the way out. And when he started back in, that rapid-fire heartbeat slowed with relief, only to speed up again as he started to slide out.

  “Hard, Isaac,” I whispered. “Fuck me hard.”

  He met my eyes. “You want it hard?”

  “Yes.”

  “How hard?”

  I licked my lips. “As hard as you can.”

  Withdrawing slowly, he held my gaze, probably searching my eyes as if he needed confirmation.

  Come on, Isaac. Please, I need this. Please, for the love—

  He slammed his cock all the way inside me. I sucked in a breath, and on his next thrust, he forced that breath right back out of me. Again. Again, even harder this time.

  I closed my fingers into tight fists, gathering bedsheets in them, but it wasn’t enough to anchor me here, so I let go of the sheets and reached for the headboard instead. I gripped the slats, and the whole bed shook as Isaac fucked me so hard, every thrust blurred my vision and made my eyes sting with hot tears.

  “Am I hurting you?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “God, Isaac, don’t stop…”

  He said something I didn’t understand, and he kept fucking me, driving himself deep inside me until I was sure I couldn’t possibly handle another second of it, and he kept right on going.

  Then a shudder rippled through him. His rhythm faltered, and then he threw his head back when a second shudder drove him all the way into me.

  “Oh God,” he groaned. “Oh God, I’m gonna come.” Lowering his head, he opened his eyes and met mine. He licked his lips, and his features tightened with exe
rtion, with that nearly fucking there tension, and when that tension released, his eyes rolled back and his body shuddered against me. Around me. Inside me.

  He shivered one last time, then collapsed over me, panting against my neck. I put my arms around him, holding him close while he caught his breath.

  When the dust had settled, we looked at each other in silence. I touched his face.

  God, I love you, Isaac.

  He kissed me gently. Then, without a word, we separated and got out of bed to clean up. Once that was taken care of, we slipped under the sheets and kissed lazily.

  In the few minutes since we’d made love and now, something had changed. Every kiss was halfhearted. Every touch hesitant. Reluctant. Eye contact was broken as quickly as it was made. Deep down, I was sure he’d caught on, that he knew I was hiding something. That he knew what I was hiding.

  I leaned in and kissed him, and at least that gave us a reason to close our eyes. The longer the kiss went on, gentle and tender like I always loved it with him, the hotter the guilt burned in my chest.

  I didn’t want to lie to him, even if it meant lying by omission, but even now, I couldn’t find the words. I didn’t know how to explain this without sending him out the door.

  We were still here, still touching, but I was scared.

  I broke the kiss and pulled back enough to look at him. Trailing my fingers down the side of his face, hoping to God he didn’t hear how badly my voice shook, I whispered, “I love you.” Please believe me, Isaac. I do, I swear, I do.

  He smiled. “I love you too.”

  But how do I explain that I also love her?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Isaac

  My client—a middle-aged schoolteacher with a quiet demeanor—sat up straight on my couch. She folded her hands above her crossed knees, and she kept her gaze fixed on the floor. She’d been quiet for a full minute, ever since she’d announced she wanted to discuss something specific.

  “Ellen?” I said, gently prodding her back into the conversation.

  After another long moment of silence, she squared her shoulders and looked at me. “I don’t know how to bring this up to Mark, but…” She took a breath. “What do you think about swinging?”