My father’s face is bright red, and he looks like he wants to wring Matt’s neck. I’ve never seen Dad act like this. Not ever.

“Mr. Morgan,” Matt says, nodding toward my dad. “I didn’t realize you were here,” he says. Then he throws his hands up, like he doesn’t know what to say next.

“Apparently,” my father grunts out.

Matt looks at me as though he’s waiting for direction. I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my smile. But I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. As awful as it was, it was perfect, and all I want to do is get rid of my dad so we can do it again and do it better. “Dad came to check up on the kids,” I say.

“And you,” Dad says. He’s still grunting. And his face is as red as a tomato. He’s never checked up on me in my life, though.

“Me and the kids,” I correct.

“It’s late,” Matt says. “I should probably go.” He starts toward the door. But the last thing I want is for him to leave.

I thread my fingers through his and give his hand a tug. He looks into my eyes, and I swear I can see the depths of his soul. I see his longing and I see his confusion and I see his need. “Don’t go,” I say softly, squeezing his fingers. “Stay.”

He nods. I lead him to the couch, and he sits down. He’s uncomfortable as hell, and it’s really kind of endearing to watch.

“I was just telling Dad about the wrestling match tomorrow.” I sit down beside Matt, and he lifts his arm to lay it on the back of the couch behind me, mainly because I press myself up against his side and don’t give him any choice. I snuggle into him and pull my feet up onto the couch. I bite back my smile because I don’t want anyone to know how giddy this makes me, just being this close to him. On purpose.

“Are you going to see him wrestle, Matt?” Dad asks. He’s staring awfully hard at Matt, but Matt just nods.

“I’m planning to, sir,” he says. “I love to watch the matches.”

He looks down at me, and I smile up at him. Matt surprises me when he leans down and kisses the tip of my nose. I scrunch my face up playfully at him, and I feel a chuckle rumble through him.

“I went to a few last year,” Dad says.

Wait. “You did?”

He nods. “I go every chance I get. Seth is really good.”

That floors me. He never came to my dance recitals. Or my gymnastics meets. Or anything I had going on. But he’s making an effort with these kids, and now that these kids are part of my life, his efforts make me happy, for their sakes. They deserve to have people in their lives who care for and love them. “I know Seth will be happy to see you there.”

“Are the kids in bed?” Matt asks.

“You probably should have asked that before you attacked my daughter,” Dad barks. “It’s late.”

Matt nods. “I know.”

“What happened to your nose?” Dad asks.

Matt grins. “She hit me.” He jerks a thumb at me.

“Smart girl,” Dad says, and he smiles at me. He’s never looked at me with such fondness, and my heart lurches at the atrocity of it. Dad motions from Matt to me and back. “How long have you two been seeing one another?” he asks.

Matt arches a brow at me. “Not long,” I chirp.

Dad nods. “I guess I should be going,” he says. He stands up and shrugs into his jacket. I get up and walk him to the door. Matt goes, too, and he reaches out to shake hands with Dad.

“Don’t disrespect my daughter,” Dad says.

“Yes, sir,” Matt says. He dips his head and jams his hands into his pockets, looking a lot like Seth did today when I scolded him about confiding in Matt.

Dad leans forward and pulls me into a quick embrace. This is new, too. I don’t remember him doing it before. Or at least not in a really long time. “Good night, Dad,” I say. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“I’ll try to do it more often,” he says loudly, talking toward Matt.

Matt nods and ducks his head even further. I giggle.

“Your mother wants to see you,” Dad says. My giggle falls away.

“Why?”

He takes a deep breath. “She just does.”

“I’ll think about it,” I tell him.

Dad leaves, and I close the door behind him.

Matt sags onto the couch and lies down, flopping his arms out like he’s ready to pass out. “Oh my God,” he breathes. But he’s chuckling, too. His belly pulses with laughter. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”

He has one leg on the couch and the other on the floor, so I get on my knees between his spread legs and lean down over him, holding myself up with my hands flat on his chest. Matt doesn’t allow that but for a second, though. He pulls me to his chest and holds me close to him. His body rises and falls beneath me, steady and solid.

“I would have told you he was here if you had given me time.” I laugh against him, and he raises his head to look down at me.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” he says. “This is serious. Your dad is going to hate me from now on.”

“I don’t care what he thinks,” I say. I scoot myself a little higher, getting my lips closer to his. “That was, like, the worst kiss of all times,” I whisper dramatically.

“I know,” he whispers back. His hands land on my waist, and he lifts me, bringing my mouth even closer to his. He lifts the edge of my T-shirt, and his warm hands touch my na**d skin. “I’m never going to kiss you again. Because that one was too awful.”

“Terrible,” I say quietly, looking at his lips. “But I think we should try again.”

Matt hooks an arm behind me and flips us over. He looks down at me. “You think this is funny?” he asks. But he’s grinning so I’m not worried.

“Hilarious,” I breathe. “Don’t you?”

His face lowers until his lips hover over mine. “You’re so f**king amazing that you make my heart hurt sometimes,” he says. My heart trips, beating hard in my chest.

“Kiss me, Matt,” I whisper.

Finally, his lips touch mine. The kiss at the door was full of passion and want. But this one is soft and hot and so genuinely perfect that I squirm under him, trying to get closer. His lips slide across mine, soft and damp and silky smooth. His tongue licks across the seam of my mouth, and when I gasp at the sensation, he sweeps inside. His h*ps grind against mine, and I can feel the length of him pressed against my belly. He’s hard and huge, but he’s still so gentle. I touch my tongue to his, and when he tries to pull back, I nip at his lips until he moans against my mouth and comes back inside.

A tap, tap, tap on my arm draws me from Matt’s lips. I open my eyes to find Mellie’s dark eyes looking at us. Matt pulls back from me when I say something against his lips. Then he realizes Mellie is there. He sits up and crawls off me. I scramble to sit up, too.

“What’s wrong, Mellie?” I ask. But then I realize what’s wrong. The smell hits me, and I have to cover my mouth. “Are you sick?” I ask.

“I threw up all over my bed,” she says so quietly that I can barely hear her.

Oh, hell, what am I supposed to do now? “Did you wake Seth up?” I ask.

She shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears. “His door was locked.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” I say. I take her sticky little hand, and Matt gets up with us. “Sorry,” I say to him.

“No worries.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I say. I wince because I feel bad.

“I’ll help you,” he says. “Why don’t you put her in a bath while I change the sheets?” He starts toward the linen closet and rummages through the stacks of sheets there, until he pulls out a set he’s happy with.

“You want to help?” I ask.

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Of course.”

If I wasn’t in love with him before, I’m a lot closer now. He’s not even kissing me, yet I have a thousand butterflies taking flight in my belly.

I lead Mellie to the bathroom, help her get cleaned up, and we put on fresh pajamas. When I come out of her room after tucking her back in, I find Matt at the washing machine starting a load of dirty sheets. Seth’s door opens, and he stick his head out.

“What’s wrong?” Seth asks.

“Mellie got sick,” I whisper.

“Is she all right?” He goes into her room and comes out a minute later, after checking on her. “Sorry I didn’t help with that,” he says sheepishly.

“It’s okay. We handled it. Go back to bed,” I suggest.

“Must have been something she ate. She doesn’t have a fever.” Seth doesn’t look worried.

It was probably the five cookies I let her have after dinner. Seth told me it was a bad idea and I didn’t listen. “Must have been. Go back to bed.”

Seth looks from me to Matt and back and raises his brow. “Okay,” he says with a grin.

“Shut it,” Matt grumbles playfully. Seth nods and goes into his room, closing the door.

“He never locks his door,” I say, trying to figure out why he might do that.

Matt grins. “Sometimes teenage boys need to lock their doors,” he says. “Trust me, it’s okay.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and leads me back to the couch.

“Oh, you think he was doing that?” I ask. I’m still whispering.

“It’s a good guess,” he says with a quiet laugh.

“See,” I say throwing my hands up, “I know nothing about children.”

“He’s a teenage boy,” he says. “You can always assume that first.”

“How do you know so much?”

“Four brothers,” he explains. “Remember? Not to mention that I’m a guy. We do that.” He grins.

“You mean when you were younger.” I watch his face closely.

His grin gets even bigger. “And older.”

My face flushes with heat. He just smiles big and taps the end of my nose with his finger.

I look down at my shirt. “I kind of smell like vomit,” I say.

“Yeah,” he says. “I kind of do, too.” I saw him wash his hands after changing the sheets, and I did, too, but still. It’s not very sexy.

“Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I was here.”

Matt reaches for the tail of his shirt and pulls it over his head. He’s wearing a sleeveless white T-shirt under his other shirt, so he’s not na**d, but this one shows a lot more skin. A lot more tattoos. A lot more muscles. Matt is big and broad but tall and lean. I let out a dreamy little sigh.

“Can I stay for a while?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, but I need to change.” I get up and go change into a long t-shirt and some sleep shorts. I come back out, and Matt whistles softly, staring at my legs.

“Remind me to have her throw up on you every time we make out on the couch,” he says.

I smile. I can’t help it. I sit down next to him, and he pulls me to his side. Then he lies down so that I’m draped across him. My hip is tucked between him and the back of the couch.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” he says quietly. He pulls my head down to his chest, and I press my face against it. His hand settles on the back of my head, and he starts to stroke down the length of my hair.

“Then don’t go,” I say quietly.

He doesn’t. He just threads his fingers into my hair and drags them down my back, over and over, until my eyelids grow heavy and I fall asleep on his chest.

I wake up the next morning tucked into my own bed, the covers pulled up to my chin. I sit up and look around. Beside me on the pillow is a note. I open it up and read.

Are you in love with me yet?

Matt

I look toward the clock on the wall again, and Paul scowls at me. “You counting the minutes?” he asks.

Yeah, I kind of am. “No.” I scoff.

Paul just rolls his eyes. “What time is the match?” he asks.

“Seven,” I murmur as I clean up my station. “You want to go?”

Pete steps out from the back where he was doing a piercing. “I want to go,” he says. He sends the guy he just pierced to Friday, who takes his money and sends him out the door.

“I want to go, too,” Friday says. She starts to pack up her things.

Paul throws up his hands and says, “Is anyone going to work tonight?”

“Nope,” we all say at the same time.

Logan grins and pulls Emily to his side. She falls against him and smiles. “Want to go?” she asks him.

“And miss watching Matt get led around by his balls? Not a chance.” Logan laughs when I swing at him, and he sidesteps me.

Pete keeps up the abuse. “She should just thread a string through that piercing in his dick and then she can pull him around with no fuss.” He adjusts his junk playfully. “Easier on your balls, too, man,” he says.

“Quit talking about my junk,” I warn, nodding toward the girls.

Friday grins at me. “We all know you’re bejeweled down there,” she says, making a motion toward my pants. “Bedazzled.”

“It’s not bedazzled,” I murmur. But I don’t care. They all know about it already. I got mine right after Paul got his. Only Pete and Logan don’t have them. Even Sam is pierced. Logan has a bar through the base of his dick. Chicken shit. “And stop talking about my junk.” I grab Friday in a headlock and pull her against me. She squeals and bats at my hand.