a raspberry on her belly.
I laugh hard, leaning on the back of the sofa. Oh my gosh. I challenge someone to find something cuter—and hotter—than a sexy, tattooed asshole loving on a two-year-old girl.
You won’t find it.
Ever.
“Kiss kiss!” Tate laughs to himself, the effectiveness of his raspberries declining severely.
“Tate—what the hell?” Sofie stops in the doorway. “What are you—never mind.” She giggles softly.
“Dammit, Tate!” Conner straightens. “Now how am I meant to sneak her candy?”
“Grab her and run, bro!” Tate darts across the room, deposits Mila into Conner’s arms, and blocks the doorway. “I’ll hold Momzilla off.”
“Momzilla? I’ll Momzilla your ass, you dick!” Sofie rushes toward him, but Tate wraps his arms around her.
“Go, Con, go!” he shouts, carrying a squirming Sofie over to the free couch. She screams when he throws her down.
“Tate Burke, I’m gonna kick your sorry ass!” She scrambles up, pushes her hair from her face, and half-giggles, half-frowns at him.
“How do you think you’re gonna manage that, short stuff?”
“I’ll call your mom.” She folds her arms across her chest and smirks.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Mhmm. And I’m sure she’d be real pleased to hear how her eldest baby disrespected a woman last night.”
“Evil bitch. And I thought we were finally friends.”
“Behave yourself.” She puts two fingers to her eyes then points them at her. “I’m mom around here, doll. I’ve got my eye on you, and I have your mom on speed dial.”
I bury my face in my hands at the horror in Tate’s eyes as Sofie walks backward out of the room. I have to laugh. I can’t help it.
The biggest asshole of Dirty B. can be brought to his knees by a two-year-old girl and her mom.
This. Is. Priceless.
“What are you laughin’ at, Els?”
I stop and glare at him. “You want me to get your mom’s number?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“You sure about that?”
He launches himself toward me and, with his hands on the back of the couch on either side of my head, leans forward. Inches are separating our noses, and I wish like hell he’d stop getting so freakin’ close to me. There’s this crazy warmth that radiates from his body, and I’m not gonna deny that my eyes are flicking to his tensed biceps.
So I’m an arms girl. I can’t help it.
“I’m sure,” he breathes, his eyes hot on mine, begging me to look up at him.
I do. For some reason, I damn well do.
Bright and hinting at that turquoise color I’m coming to recognize, his eyes are intense, serious yet teasing, mischievous.
And I breathe in, slowly, because he shouldn’t be affecting me. I don’t want him to know he’s affecting me.
“You won’t call my mom because you’re too fuckin’ nice to. You’re too quiet and shy, despite that crazy-ass sassy mouth of yours that pops up now and then.”
Of their own accord, my lips move into a small smile. “How do you know my sassy mouth won’t pop up and call her for my shy self?”
“Because if it does, I’ll have to kiss it into fuckin’ silence.” He leans forward, just a little more. Enough that my inhale isn’t all that slow or quiet.
“How do you do it?” I whisper. “How do you go from woman-using rock star to adoring uncle to . . . this?”
“What is . . . this?”
“I don’t know. Gentle asshole?”
“I’m still your boss, y’know. I should have had your ass for calling me an asshole last night.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was too busy staring at your ass as you walked away from me to remember.” He smirks. “For what it’s worth, you have a real fuckin’ nice ass.”
“Thanks. I guess.” I raise an eyebrow. “And back to my question?”
He smiles, his eyes sparkling, and drops onto the sofa next to me. “I love my family, Els. And Mila most of all. She fuckin’ hated me the first time we met. First time she looked at me, she burst into
I laugh hard, leaning on the back of the sofa. Oh my gosh. I challenge someone to find something cuter—and hotter—than a sexy, tattooed asshole loving on a two-year-old girl.
You won’t find it.
Ever.
“Kiss kiss!” Tate laughs to himself, the effectiveness of his raspberries declining severely.
“Tate—what the hell?” Sofie stops in the doorway. “What are you—never mind.” She giggles softly.
“Dammit, Tate!” Conner straightens. “Now how am I meant to sneak her candy?”
“Grab her and run, bro!” Tate darts across the room, deposits Mila into Conner’s arms, and blocks the doorway. “I’ll hold Momzilla off.”
“Momzilla? I’ll Momzilla your ass, you dick!” Sofie rushes toward him, but Tate wraps his arms around her.
“Go, Con, go!” he shouts, carrying a squirming Sofie over to the free couch. She screams when he throws her down.
“Tate Burke, I’m gonna kick your sorry ass!” She scrambles up, pushes her hair from her face, and half-giggles, half-frowns at him.
“How do you think you’re gonna manage that, short stuff?”
“I’ll call your mom.” She folds her arms across her chest and smirks.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Mhmm. And I’m sure she’d be real pleased to hear how her eldest baby disrespected a woman last night.”
“Evil bitch. And I thought we were finally friends.”
“Behave yourself.” She puts two fingers to her eyes then points them at her. “I’m mom around here, doll. I’ve got my eye on you, and I have your mom on speed dial.”
I bury my face in my hands at the horror in Tate’s eyes as Sofie walks backward out of the room. I have to laugh. I can’t help it.
The biggest asshole of Dirty B. can be brought to his knees by a two-year-old girl and her mom.
This. Is. Priceless.
“What are you laughin’ at, Els?”
I stop and glare at him. “You want me to get your mom’s number?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“You sure about that?”
He launches himself toward me and, with his hands on the back of the couch on either side of my head, leans forward. Inches are separating our noses, and I wish like hell he’d stop getting so freakin’ close to me. There’s this crazy warmth that radiates from his body, and I’m not gonna deny that my eyes are flicking to his tensed biceps.
So I’m an arms girl. I can’t help it.
“I’m sure,” he breathes, his eyes hot on mine, begging me to look up at him.
I do. For some reason, I damn well do.
Bright and hinting at that turquoise color I’m coming to recognize, his eyes are intense, serious yet teasing, mischievous.
And I breathe in, slowly, because he shouldn’t be affecting me. I don’t want him to know he’s affecting me.
“You won’t call my mom because you’re too fuckin’ nice to. You’re too quiet and shy, despite that crazy-ass sassy mouth of yours that pops up now and then.”
Of their own accord, my lips move into a small smile. “How do you know my sassy mouth won’t pop up and call her for my shy self?”
“Because if it does, I’ll have to kiss it into fuckin’ silence.” He leans forward, just a little more. Enough that my inhale isn’t all that slow or quiet.
“How do you do it?” I whisper. “How do you go from woman-using rock star to adoring uncle to . . . this?”
“What is . . . this?”
“I don’t know. Gentle asshole?”
“I’m still your boss, y’know. I should have had your ass for calling me an asshole last night.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I was too busy staring at your ass as you walked away from me to remember.” He smirks. “For what it’s worth, you have a real fuckin’ nice ass.”
“Thanks. I guess.” I raise an eyebrow. “And back to my question?”
He smiles, his eyes sparkling, and drops onto the sofa next to me. “I love my family, Els. And Mila most of all. She fuckin’ hated me the first time we met. First time she looked at me, she burst into
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