Page 57 of Paternal Instincts
His expression suggested he didn’t understand.
“If we have a boy. We can call him Onyx.”
Quaid’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “That’s… a big fat no. How about you leave the naming to me.”
“Nuh-uh. You said I could pick the girl’s name.”
“Again. I never agreed to that.”
“I picked Moonbeam, by the way. It’s catchy, don’t you think? We could call her Moon for short. Or Beam.”
“I think you’re overtired.”
“My second choice is Sunny. It’s pretty, too. Dainty. Her middle name would be Delight, obviously.”
I squawked when Quaid jabbed my ribs, digging his fingers into the tender flesh. He wouldn’t let up, and we wrestled and laughed until we almost lost our footing.
“Okay, mercy, mercy. It was a joke.”
He squeezed my face between his palms. “No more names. You are officially fired.”
“One more.”
His smile was my undoing. It radiated from his baby blue eyes, twinkling with life and love. “Fine, but I already hate it.”
“You won’t. This is the best one yet, and if you do hate it, you aren’t the Quaid Valor I thought I knew.”
He narrowed his eyes and pressed his forehead to mine, our hips still moving of their own accord even though the mobile had gone quiet. “What?”
I braced for impact, knowing he would take me out. “Java. Or Mocha Java, but we can call her Java.”
The man was quick and cunning. I somehow ended up on the nursery floor, howling with laughter until tears filled my eyes. Quaid straddled me, pinning my arms above my head and restraining me with his knees digging into my sides. To be fair, I had more weight and strength than him and could have moved him easily, but I didn’t try.
He hit me with a bruising kiss that officially shut me up. It started playful and rough, aggressive in the loving way Quaid sometimes had when taking a dominant role in the bedroom. I pretended to fight him off, and he pretended he was successfully curtailing my escape.
The kiss quickly changed to something soft and tender. His hold relaxed, no longer locking me in place as his body molded with mine.Soon, we were stretched out on the floor, a tangle of limbs and twisted clothes, lost in one another.
“You promised me a massage,” he said into our kiss several minutes later.
I hummed. “I didn’t forget. I planned to deliver once you finished in the shower, but you didn’t make it that far. Then this happened.” I arched my hips, rutting against his interested cock straining his trousers. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s hot when you get rough.”
Quaid made a soft noise in his throat and ground against me the same way. “I’ll shower in the morning.”
Another lingering kiss followed. He released my hands and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. When he tried to remove his tie without breaking contact, he nearly choked himself, and we dissolved into laughter once again.
“Damn thing is stuck.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“I want to be naked with you. Can you help?”
“How about we take this to the much more comfortable bed in the next room? I don’t know about you, but my middle-aged ass is not a fan of fucking on the floor. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, and I’ll give myself a sore back for a week.”
“Agreed. Remember last time?”
I snorted, recalling the time I’d taken Quaid doggy style on the living room carpet several months ago. He’d cursed me for six days straight until the rug burn on both his knees heeled. Mostly, it was because Jordyn had noticed the thick scabs during one of their gym sessions and teased him relentlessly.
Quaid helped me to my feet and took one last wistful glance around the room before shutting off the small lamp. He closed the doorbehind us, pressed his palm to its surface, and didn’t immediately follow me to the bedroom.
