Irresistible Nights by Kaylee Monroe

Chapter Eighteen

Denton

If my arms hadn’t been full of his weeping daughter, I would have chased Clive Davenport down and punched him square in the jaw, audience or not. A misdemeanor assault charge would have been worth it for the pleasure of kicking his ass after the way he’d treated Marcie.

I looked down at her as she slumbered in my arms, her eyes still swollen from the hours of crying. I seethed with anger the whole time, but kept it to myself as I made her dinner and soothed her to sleep.

Now, though.

Nobody—not even her beloved father—was going to treat the woman I loved that way. The mother of my child.

With a soft sigh, she rolled away from me and nestled into her pillow. I slid off the bed and pulled the blanket up over her slim shoulder, then fished a notepad out of my nightstand to scribble a quick note to leave on my pillow, in case she woke up and wondered where I was.

My condo wasn’t far from the Pacific Heights Hotel, and before long, I strode into the lobby and up to the desk.

“Can you give me Clive Davenport’s room number?” I asked the front desk clerk.

She raised an eyebrow at my authoritative tone. “I can call his room and ask if he’ll see you.”

I sighed. “That’s fine.”

She picked up the phone and dialed a few digits.

“Mr. Davenport, this is the front desk. Are you expecting a guest?”

She set the phone down and shrugged. “He said it’s fine. Room 1640.”

A few minutes later, I arrived on the sixteenth floor and pounded on Clive’s door. He swung it open a second later, his face falling as he realized it was me standing on the other side.

“Denton,” he grunted.

I raised an eyebrow. “Clearly you were expecting someone else. Can I come in?”

He sighed and didn’t deny my comment, which made me wonder who’d he’d been anticipating. Taking a step back, he waved me inside.

Clive looked rumpled and tired, I noticed, his hair mussed as though he ran his fingers through it repeatedly.

“Sit,” he said crisply, gesturing at living room set.

I settled into an uncomfortable chair—too small for my height—and stared at him as he lowered himself in the chair across from me.

“You treated your daughter like shit today,” I growled before he had a chance to speak. “She cried for hours after.”

Clive frowned and looked down at his bare feet. “Where is she now?”

“At home.” I leaned back in my chair and glared at him. “Our home. Sleeping, and she doesn’t know I’m here right now. She probably wouldn’t have wanted me to come, but I’m too pissed off to just let this slide any longer.”

He huffed an angry breath and leveled me with a furious stare. “Don’t, Sawyer. Just don’t. You slept with my daughter behind my back. What am I supposed to say? That I think it’s great?”

The subtle implication—that I used his daughter for sex—stung.

“You can be mad at me,” I said hotly, “just don’t take it out on her. You want to fire me? Fine, I’ll walk away from our business. But you treated your daughter like you thought she was…cheap trash or something. Like what we did was wrong and dirty. You’re devastating her.”

Clive didn’t respond, but his angry gaze burned into me. I kept going, determined to get everything out.

“She’s happy that she’s pregnant, Clive. We’re happy,” I continued, needing him to know that. “She’s the love of my life, and I don’t regret anything. I never thought I would get another chance at this, at being happy and in love with a future to look forward to, and I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to waste it.”

He looked down and shook his head. “You’re twice her age and she’s still so damn young, Sawyer.”

“Young and brilliant and successful,” I returned. “She knows herself and she knows what she wants. You trusted her to move to Seattle on her own, accept a big loan from you to start a business—why can’t you trust her to know what she wants with her personal life?”

I rose to my feet and turned toward the door. “Your daughter and I are happy. You need to decide if your anger is worth more to you than your relationship with your daughter and your grandchild.”

Just before I turned the knob and walked out, I looked back at Clive, who sat slumped in a chair. He looked…miserable.

“Our door is always open,” I said, forcing some gentleness into my tone. “Don’t be a stranger.”

And then I went home. Home to the mother of my child, who still slept peacefully on her side of the bed. I crumpled up the note I’d left on the pillow, then stripped and slid in next to her. Without waking, she rolled easily into my arms. I dropped a kiss in her dark mane and was out in minutes. Regardless of what happened with Denton, we would figure everything out because we had each other.

I dreamed of a big house with a lush yard and a swing set in the back, where our children could grow and thrive. Chubby-cheeked kids with flyaway hair and grass-stained knees. The family I’d never let myself imagine until now.

The next day was Sunday, and we slept late, tangled sleepily in the soft covers, exchanging whispers and soft kisses that deepened until I tugged my old sweatshirt over Marcie’s head and shucked off my boxer shorts to slide into her soft, eager body. It was different and new this time—slow and easy in the mid-morning light that streamed through the blinds. We laughed and talked as we rolled together, chuckles giving way to pleasured gasps as we found completion.

“It’s always new and different with you,” Marcie said as she smothered a yawn.

I pulled the blanket up a little higher as I tugged her naked body closer. Her legs twined with mine and I rolled her underneath me to bury my lips in the softness of her shoulder.

“Is that so?” I asked, my voice muffled against her warm skin.

She sighed happily. “Yeah. I’m never performing anything for you. It all comes naturally and nothing is ever embarrassing. I love to touch you and I love the way you touch me. It’s respectful, even when it’s dirty.” She looked thoughtful for a second, then shrugged. “Maybe it’s because you have more experience. I don’t know.”

I shook my head. “Baby, that’s not it. It was never like this for me with anybody. I’m not self-conscious about sex, but our sexual chemistry is off-the-charts. It’s never been like that for me, either.”

I slid off of her and propped myself up on an elbow as she looked over at me with a smile. “Not even with Elyse, huh?”

“Nope. It was good, but this is different. Even that first night. It was always special with you.”

Her smile broadened and she sat up. “Come on, old man,” she said teasingly. “We have so much to do today.”

I couldn’t resist admiring her shapely ass as she scrambled out of the bed and walked toward the bathroom. She paused and looked at me over her shoulder.

“Coming?” she asked, her voice low and sultry.

I couldn’t move fast enough.