Sincerely, The Puck Bunny (Totally Pucked #2)(61)

“Nice outfit.” I smirk, which earns me a glare from him.

He looks completely offended, and it makes me laugh. “Don’t be a hater. Holland got this for me for my birthday, and I’m showing it off.”

Graham snickers. “You’re the definition of a dad-bod dude.”

Reed scowls at him with a clenched jaw then points the spatula at him. “Shut up. I do not have a fucking dad bod.”

These two bicker more than a damn married couple.

Walking over to Reed, Graham places his hands on his cheeks before murmuring, “It’s okay to admit it, Davis. Honestly, chicks dig dad bods now.”

Reed’s jaw clenches, and he looks like he’s five seconds from shoving that spatula up Graham’s ass, but Holland, Juliet, Madison and my baby girl walk up, interrupting their bickering.

When Maddison walks up to my side, I toss my arm around her shoulders and pull her against me, then introduce her to the only person she hasn’t met, Liam.

“Maddison, this is Liam, Juliet’s husband. You know the rest of these idiots.”

She nods but elbows me in the side playfully for calling them idiots.

“Hi everyone.”

“Hi, can I hold Olive-you?” Graham asks.

“Of course.”

Squatting down, he spends the next ten minutes, trying to unbuckle her from her seat because, apparently, something as simple as a car seat buckle is above his skill level. Maddison tries to intervene to help, but I pull her back and grin.

“Got it!” he mutters, finally able to free Olive from the straps and lift her into his arms. She looks so fucking tiny compared to him.

“Hi little Olive-you, you know Uncle Graham got you a super cool present from Vegas. One day when you’re bigger, I’ll take you, and we can do all the things that your parents will forbid you from doing.”

“Graham,” I warn.

He smirks then looks back down at her. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell them.”

Olive babbles happily at him, and he rocks her in his arms gently. I’m surprised at his attentive, gentleness with her. This dude is the furthest thing from dad material there is, but he’s amazing with her.

“If your parents ever let me babysit you then we’re getting matching tats, O. You think that would be cool?”

“Stop being stingy with the baby, Adams.” Emery swoops in and carefully takes Olive from him then gives her a quick snuggle. “God, I love babies.”

“Me too,” Graham mumbles, shocking us all.

“You thirsty, babe?” I ask Maddison, who’s laughing at Reed and Liam’s story about the latest shenanigans the girls have gotten into, including something with a tube of mascara that goes over my head.

She looks up at me, her honey eyes stealing my fucking breath. “Sure."

I lace our hands together and tug her toward the house with me. We walk past the huge pool and pool house then cross the courtyard to the back door that leads directly into the kitchen. Once we’re inside, I grab her a bottle of water from the fridge, but before she can even take a sip, I yank her toward me and take her mouth.

It feels like a goddamn week since I’ve had my lips on hers. We may have agreed to take things slow, but I’ve been desperate for this woman since the moment she left me at the inn, even more so now, knowing that she carried my child.

It awakens a primal part of me every single time she breastfeeds Olive. The caveman, raw side of me, that I’ve never in my life fucking felt, I feel when she does the simplest of things.

Truth be told, I’m crazy about her.

“Briggs,” she mumbles against my lips, fisting her hands in the fabric of my t-shirt.

“Mmm,” I respond, delving inside her mouth once more, my tongue tasting every inch of her.

Backing up toward the hallway, I pull her with me until we get to the bathroom, then slip inside and shut the door behind us, careful to flick the lock shut.

“We are not going to make out in the bathroom like teenagers,” she whispers breathlessly, pausing, “Are we?”

I toss my head back and laugh. “Fuck, you’re beautiful, Maddison.”

We do, in fact, make out in the bathroom like teenagers for the next ten minutes until my beard has scratched her neck deliciously red, her lips are bruised and she’s been thoroughly fucking kissed.

“We have to get back,” she whispers, but makes no move to untangle herself from me. I don’t want to move either. It makes me even more anxious to have time alone with her, without the eyes of our friends on us.

“What’s your dream date? If you could have anything, what would you want?”

She looks at me pensively, chewing her lip. “Don’t laugh.” Her voice is stern, and she pokes my chest to get her point across.

“Why would I laugh?”

“Because it’s probably over the top and ridiculous, but…. I’ve always wanted to take a helicopter ride over Chicago at night. I love the city lights, they put me at ease, and it’s been a dream since I was a little girl to fly over it at night.” She pauses.

“What?”

She shrugs. “I think my dream date would be with someone who is interested in what I have to say. About life, my goals, my dreams. Connecting with someone on a deeper level. Maybe a candlelight dinner at a fancy restaurant followed by a helicopter ride over Chicago."