Page 33 of Slap Shot Daddies

The moment I sink into the embrace of my bed, her scent envelops me. Something sweet, something distinctly Kenzie. It clings to my skin, teasing my senses with the vivid memory of her body nestled against mine, her gentle sighs, the warmth of her skin fusing with mine.

I rub my hand over my face, attempting to will away the thoughts that cling like a stubborn fog. But deep down, I know I don’t want to let them go.

I close my eyes, and like a relentless reel, my mind replays every second of the night.

I think of the way her eyes met mine with an unspoken connection, the way she unraveled under my touch. I remember her cheeks flushing an endearing shade of red when the guys teased her at the dinner table.

Fuck, she’s adorable. And terrifying. I think I actually like her. A lot.

I roll onto my stomach and bury my face into the pillow, groaning softly, hoping sleep will claim me before my thoughts spiral into even more bewildering territory.

Eventually, the weight of exhaustion overpowers my racing mind, and I drift into sleep, cocooned in the lingering scent of her presence.

When I wake up, the sun is already streaming through my blinds, casting warm streaks of gold across my bedroom walls.

The rich scent of freshly brewed coffee drifts through the house, enticing me to rise, yet I linger in bed for a moment longer, stretching my limbs, my muscles deliciously sore from the previous day’s exertions.

Kenzie.

I let out a groan, rolling onto my back, eyes wandering over the ceiling. Yeah, still thinking about her.

With a reluctant sigh, I drag myself up and head to the bathroom, peeling off my boxers and stepping into the steaming shower.

The hot water cascades over me, pounding rhythmically against my back, easing the stubborn knots in my shoulders. I tilt my head back, allowing the water to soak into my hair, its warmth enveloping me like a comforting embrace.

I need to get her out of my system.

But the moment I close my eyes, her image floods my mind. The way she gasped softly when I kissed her throat, the sensation of her fingers tangling intimately in my hair.

Damn it!

I shut off the water abruptly, determined to halt the spiral of my thoughts before they can carry me away.

With a towel wrapped snugly around my waist, I step out of the bathroom and vigorously rub at my damp hair.

My phone buzzes insistently from atop my nightstand, and I grab it, flipping it over.

Wyatt.

A smile tugs irresistibly at my lips as I swipe to answer, bringing the phone to my ear.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Dad!” Wyatt’s voice bursts with uncontainable excitement. “Guess what?”

“What’s up, kiddo?” I grin, settling comfortably onto the edge of my bed, the familiar warmth of fatherly pride spreading through my chest.

“I scored a goal in street hockey yesterday! And coach says my slapshot’s getting really good.”

I chuckle, the sound rich with affection. “That’s my boy.”

Wyatt’s face bursts onto the screen as he switches to FaceTime, his unruly brown hair flopping over his forehead like a tangled mop.

His grin stretches from ear to ear, revealing a noticeable gap where one of his front teeth should be.

I smirk playfully. “Lost another one, huh?”

“Yeah!” he exclaims, enthusiastically poking at the empty space with a finger. “The Tooth Fairy gave me ten bucks.”

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