A sleepy moan escapes me, and I slide my hand across the top of the sheet, snuggling closer to the warm body beside me. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Womy,” a small, giggly voice replies. A tiny arm tightens around my waist and that’s when I realize that I’m not cuddled up to Elio at all. Instead, I’m snuggling his four-year-old daughter.

“Coco!” I sit bolt upright and remember too late that I’m naked. “Oh my God.”

“You have big boobies,” she says.

I laugh in exasperation and pull the sheet toward me, unseating her from her place on top of it. Coco giggles again as her tiny body bounces all over the bed.

“Did you have a sweep-ober wift my daddy the whole night?”

“Er . . . yes, but he slept downstairs.”

“But he was in bed wift you when I came in at dark time.”

All the color drains from my face. I am so not ready for this conversation. Not before coffee. I adore this little girl, and I meant what I told Elio—I’m all in—but we haven’t discussed telling Coco. We didn’t discuss anything past “Don’t stop!”

“Did you have sweep-overs wift Uncie Marc too?” Her big earnest eyes stare up at me as if it’s the most innocent question in the world.

“Oh God.” Heat floods my cheeks, and I bury my head in my hands.

“Coco, that’s enough.” Elio stands in the doorway. His smile is barely there, but his eyes tell me he finds his daughter’s question somewhat amusing.

Nothing about this is remotely funny.

“Daddy!” Coco sits up. Her dark chocolate curls have formed a bird’s nest in the middle of the night. It bobs, taking on a life of its own as she shakes her head. “Womy and me were hawving big-girl talks. You’re interwupting.”

“Oh, really?” Elio says, shooting me a questioning look. I shake my head emphatically. “Well, don’t let me stop you. I just came to tell you that your pancakes and babycino are ready.”

“Ooh, cino,” she crows, and her words are flecked by the most adorable Italian accent the way her Aunt Bianca and Sophia speak. Coco jumps off the bed and runs through the door. “Later, Womy.”

A startled laugh escapes me as I watch her go and then turn my attention back to her father. He’s doing some watching of his own, his dark eyes hooded with lust. A thrill runs through me, and my insides tighten.

“And you, young lady, I have coffee for you,” he says, crossing the room and climbing on the bed.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm.” Elio crawls up the length of my body and lowers his hips, wedging himself into the space between my thighs. “And sausage.”

“Sausage?”

“Mmm, big, thick, hot sausage.” His throaty whisper brushes the shell of my ear.

“Oh,” I moan. “Sausage is my favorite.”

“Is it now?” He pivots his hips, eliciting another moan from me as his scratchy beard brushes my neck and his teeth nibble my earlobe. My head falls back against the headboard and I bite my lip. Elio’s cock is hard as he pushes against me, the fabric of his sleep pants offering little protection against his heat.

“Yes, oh God. I love sausage.”

He chuckles, low and deep, and his hips do another full revolution. The ache in my core intensifies. The pressure of his crown against my clit turns my insides to jelly and I rock against him, seeking more, wanting more, desperate for him to slide into me. He’d meet no resistance because I’m wetter and hotter than I’ve ever been for any man.

“Are you two coming or not? You’re slower than the hare, Daddy.”

Coco’s words douse us in ice water. A second before she cried out, I was flame. I was heat, and passion, and I’m really going to have to get used to not letting this man touch me when his gorgeous daughter is awake.

“Slow and steady.” Elio sighs as he collapses against me and then presses a kiss to my neck.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me you’ll stay another night?” he whispers, leaning up on his forearms and brushing the hair back from my face. “I’ll cook for you. I’ll do anything, but I need you to stay with us, with me. I need you tonight.”

I smile, loving the way he can be open and honest with me now. Vulnerable. “I’ll stay.”

“You will?”

“As long as you want me, I’ll stay.”

Elio’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas morning. He kisses my lips. It isn’t erotic, or even really romantic. It’s as if he needs to kiss me, like he’ll die without feeling his mouth on mine. “Come on. Your pancakes are getting cold.”

Pancakes. Elio. Awesome, awesome sex. It's too much. "I love you."

He stills.

Shit. I said it too soon. Oh God. I’m going to have to find a new barista, and I just got this one back.

"You . . . love me?"

Be brave, Romy. Just tell him. "Yes."

"I love you too," he growls, then tugs me off the bed. “So fucking much.”

I hold the sheet close, but it gets ripped away by his hands and shortly after, my nipple is in his mouth. He rolls his tongue around the taut flesh. He groans as he devours me, and my insides tighten. Elio’s fingers slide over my body and dip between my thighs to stroke my clit. My legs shake, and between his earlier rocking, his lips on my breasts, and his fingers with their merciless teasing, I’m close to coming. Too close.

God, we can’t do this with his daughter just downstairs, and the door wide open. “Wait, wait, stop. We can’t do this here. Not with Coco awake.”

“Fuck.” He pulls away with an aggravated sigh. “God, I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Well, you have to. At least for another . . .” I let my words trail off as I try to clear the fog from my head. “When do four-year-olds go to bed?”

His responding grin is perfection. “Early.”

“Well, until then, you and I will both need to be patient.”

“I think we’ve been patient enough.”

I laugh. “No, we’ve been idiotic.”

“That’s true.” He nods in agreement. “Okay, you gotta get dressed. I can’t keep looking at you naked just a few feet from my bed and not do something about that.”

“You have a shirt I could borrow?”

He crosses the room, pulls an oversized white T-shirt and a pair of cotton boxers from the wardrobe, and tosses them at me. My panties are still downstairs, so I slip into Elio’s clothes. Two months ago, I never would have fit. I grab a fistful of the soft cotton and bring it to my nose. God, even his clean clothes smell amazing. I know I’ll need actual clothing at some point, but for breakfast with Coco and Elio, it should suffice.

Elio lets out another exaggerated huff and shakes his head. I push him, so he’ll get moving out the door. “I didn’t know what to say to Coco this morning. I don’t want this to be weird for her, or for her to think I’m trying to replace her mom.”

“Well, to be honest, you wouldn’t have to work very hard to accomplish that.”

I stare quizzically at him, almost afraid to ask my next question for fear it will make things between Elio and me more complicated. “Do you see her often?”

“No. She ran out on me when Coco was just a week old. I found out my brother had been fucking my pregnant wife while living in my house.”

“Oh my God, Elio. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know until last night.”

“It’s okay. We’re better off without them both,” he says. “That's why I didn't make a move on you earlier. Coco and I . . . our situation is complicated. Dating me will be complicated. It'll mean making sacrifices. It'll mean knowing my daughter comes first."

I nod in earnest. “I understand, and I would never hurt Coco. I know she needs to come first.”

He doesn’t need to worry about me, because as much as I love Elio, I would rather be without him than hurt that little girl. I don’t understand how a mother could run out on her own child. How she could run out on Elio. Or worse, betray him by sleeping with his brother.

Guilt stabs at my heart. He must have thought I was a monster showing up at his grandparents’ house yesterday. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea he was your brother.”

Elio cups my cheek and presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I know. And don’t worry about it being weird for Coco. She already loves you, and she’ll sure as hell tell you if she doesn’t.”

“I’d expect nothing less from your daughter.”

“Well, she takes after her aunt.” He wraps his arms around me as we walk toward the stairs.

The house smells amazing, and I’m starved. I hurry downstairs like a new bride at a Badgley Mischka clearance. Before I can get too far, Elio pulls me against him from behind and kisses my neck. His beard tickles my sensitive flesh. I shriek and attempt to pull away as we enter the kitchen and dining room, but he won’t allow it.

Coco glances at us and rolls her eyes as she squirts more syrup on an already drowning blueberry pancake.

“Gwoss,” she says, setting the bottle on the table.

Elio takes my hand and leads me over to the long bench seat. “Hey, I plan on kissing Romy a lot more, so you better get used to it.”

I cringe, worrying my bottom lip with my teeth because if Coco doesn’t want me around her daddy, it might devastate me.

She rolls her inscrutable gaze over me from knee to nose and scrunches up her little face. “Boys have cooties, you know?”

“That’s right,” Elio says, proudly beaming like an idiot. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

I shake my head and sit beside him, opposite his beautiful daughter, and as she mirrors my exasperation and shakes her head at her father, I know we’re going to get along just fine.