A Daddy for Jacoby(31)

“’Night, Gina,” he mumbled.

“Good night, sweetie.” She brushed wisps of hair off his face, then stepped away from the bed.

“’Night, Dad.”

Gina stilled for a moment before glancing at Justin. Did he hear the child’s soft words? The stunned look on his face told her he had. With a quick “’Night,” in return, he spun around and disappeared.

She checked on Jacoby again and found him fast asleep. Leaving the room, she paused to close the door, then went to find Justin. Back in the main room, Justin paced in the open area between the kitchen and living room. He’d pulled on a flannel shirt, but hadn’t bothered with the buttons. Gina could feel uncertainty and doubt radiating off him.

“Why did he do that?” he asked in a low whisper.

She didn’t pretend not to understand. “Because you’re his father.”

“We don’t know that.” He stopped and faced her, but then dropped his head back against the upper kitchen cabinets. Eyes closed, he thumped his head, each strike a punctuation mark to his words. “We. Don’t. Know. That.”

“Justin—”

“Even if I am that kid’s father, I’m the worst possible person to take care of him.” Eyes now open, but unfocused, he stared upward. “What the hell do I know about raising a kid?”

Gina’s heart ached for him and the despair she heard in his voice. He had no idea how important what he’d done tonight—what he’d done the last two days—was to that sleeping little boy.

She moved closer, keenly aware of his nearness. “Jacoby’s world…and yours was turned upside down two days ago. You’ve been doing a great job so far.”

“I fed the kid and bought him some clothes, big deal.” This time he did look at her, his words still a hushed whisper. “That’s not the same as being responsible for another person’s life.”

“It’s part of it. Providing the basics is what a parent does.”

“I’m not talking about that stuff. That was easy.”

“Then why is Jacoby wearing brand-new pajamas with a full belly and sleeping in a bed for the first time in his life?” Gina gestured toward the room on the other side of the kitchen wall. “That’s more than he’s probably had in a long time.”

“Anyone could have given him that stuff.”

“But no one did, until you.”

“I’m talking about more important things—”

“I know what you’re talking about. How to be a good person, to know right from wrong, to work hard for what you want in life, to be nice—”

“And you think I’m the person who can teach him all that? So much for you being the smartest lady in town.”

“You just need a little confidence in yourself.”

He punched out a humorless laugh and looked away. “Sorry, fresh out of confidence.”

Gina didn’t pause to question what she was doing. She cupped his face, turning him to look at her. He returned her stare, almost silently daring her to do what he surely could read in her gaze.

In one motion, she rose to her tiptoes and placed her mouth to his. For a split second it was like kissing a statue, he held himself so still. Then his arms encircled her, his hands powerful as they stroked her back while his lips opened. The heat of his tongue had her readily parting to let him in. He pulled her hard against him, putting her curves flush with his solid, muscular body. Her hands went to the nape of his neck and she held on, sure the desire and passion in his kiss would cause her to splinter into a million pieces.

Oh, this man could kiss.

His hands tangled in her hair, then moved back to her waist where his fingers gathered the bottom edge of her sweater until he touched her skin, hot and needy.

And that’s exactly how Justin made her feel. Hot and needy.

She’d fantasized about this moment for the last three months and the reality was a hundred times better than anything she’d imagined. And more.

He didn’t just kiss with his mouth, but with his whole being.

He moved his hands away and she softly moaned at the loss, but then he trailed them over her jean-covered backside. Seconds later, he lifted her off her feet and carried her a few steps to place her on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.

He nudged her legs apart and stepped between them, his mouth never leaving hers. Arching her back, she strained to be closer, her hands moving to his upper arms, fisting the soft material of his shirt. He cradled the back of her head with one hand as he urged her to lean back into his hold. His other hand traced a path across her stomach before his fingertips slowly inched upward.