“The pressure,” I continue. “It feels heavy. Suffocating, almost. When I first went to culinary school, I had plans to open my own little bakery one day. A place where people could get my cookies or cakes and I’d be able to watch the joy take over their faces when they took that first bite. But once I was in the industry, that goal didn’t seem big or impressive enough. Instead, I went into the high-end world, and now the only people who eat my food anymore are critics or guests who’ve paid a ridiculous amount to do so. I watch people analyze every bite of what I’ve created instead of enjoying it, and if I’m being honest, it’s gotten hard to put the same love into my food without second-guessing everything I do, knowing it’s going to be judged instead of enjoyed.”
The silence in the hotel room is suffocating. Kai lays only inches from me, but still, I won’t look at him. Vulnerability is a sensation I like to steer clear from. My lifestyle isn’t conducive to close and long-term friendships. I haven’t had to be vulnerable with anyone in a very long time, and I’ve avoided self-reflection for years.
His oversized hand cups my face, turning my chin to face him. “Why do you still do the high-end stuff instead of simplifying things and opening your own bakery like you wanted to?”
I swallow. “Because what I do now is on another level. Yes, the hours are ridiculous and sure, the pressure of working in a high-end kitchen can be crippling, but I’ve made a name for myself. I think others look at my resume and find it impressive.”
His eyes search mine. “Does what other people think really matter?”
There’s only one person whose opinion of me matters and that’s the man on the other side of this wall. After everything he’s done for me, he deserves an impressive daughter. A daughter who excels in everything she does.
“Will you bake for me sometime?” Kai asks when I don’t respond. “I promise not to judge or analyze it.”
I chuckle. “First you want me to watch your son, travel with you, and now I need to cook for you? God, what else do you want me to do?”
His thumb trails down my jaw before sliding against my lower lip. “I want you to kiss me again.”
Oh.
He stares at my mouth. “I really liked kissing you, Mills.”
My body moves towards his without hesitation and, like a practiced dance, his arm slips between me and the mattress, pulling me closer to him. Our bare legs slide against one another, and he lifts his over mine to bring me nearer.
I lick my bottom lip, prepared for wherever he wants this to go. “I really liked kissing you too.”
“But we can’t do it again.”
Annnd never mind.
“Because if I kiss you again,” he continues, “I have a feeling I’m going to want to do it every time I see you.”
I arch into him. “I don’t see the problem with that.”
“The problem with me kissing you is it’s only going to lead me to wanting to fuck you more than I already do, and I don’t do the unattached fucking thing like I used to.”
“But the unattached fucking thing is so fun.”
He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, but ever since Max—”
“You don’t do casual.”
“Nothing about my life is casual anymore. I’ve got someone else relying on me and my decisions now.”
“Again.”
Understanding floods him. “I have someone else relying on me again, and I don’t have the space to be selfish. You said it yourself, you’re leaving soon, and I’ve had too many people I counted on leave. I can’t put myself or my son through that again.”
Of course he can’t. Not when he’s trying to build a solid and stable environment for Max, while I’m simply having a good time passing through until I get back to my real life and career.
“I get it.” I pull away a bit, giving him space in the bed.
“Where are you going?”
“Giving you space. You just said—”
“A man can cuddle.”
My brows shoot up. “Cuddle?”
“Yes, cuddle. Or have you never heard of the term?”
I pause, hesitating.
“Have you never cuddled before?” he asks.
“No. I cuddle with your son. I’ve just never—”
“Have you never cuddled with a man before?”
“Can we stop saying the word cuddle? It doesn’t sound right coming from you. You’re huge and hot and you’ve said the word cuddle more times in the last thirty seconds than I have in my entire life.”
A knowing smile lifts on his lips. “Miller Montgomery, you cold, unattached woman. Get over here and cuddle with me.”
“Stop saying cuddle!”
He reaches out for me, but I teasingly pull away.
“Cuddle with me, Mills.”
“Get away from me!” I wiggle away on the mattress.
Laughing, he chases after me until finally I give up my sad excuse of attempting to get away from him.
His giant body traps mine and on instinct my legs open around him. As soon as his hips fall into the cradle of mine, our matching smiles drop.
He uses his arms to keep himself lifted off me, just enough so that I can watch his attention once again drop to my lips.
“Kai.” I swallow, my fingertips trailing over his abs, tracing the endless ridges.
His stomach contracts, sucking a sharp inhale, and it takes everything in me not to lift my hips and rub to feel exactly what I’ve been dying to feel.
He wants to kiss me. I want him to kiss me. I also really want to shed the few layers of clothing that separate where our bodies connect. But I can see in his torn expression that he’s beating himself over wanting me and, though sometimes I’ll put him through that torture because it’s fun, I can’t give him someone to miss. And after what he told me, it’s clear he can’t keep himself detached the way I can.
“Fine,” I say, breaking the tension. “I’ll cuddle with you, but only because I can’t have you jealous of your son over that.”
His forehead drops with a combination of regret and relief that things didn’t escalate.
Kai flips onto his back, his arm out wide, nudging my head to rest on his chest. I do so, settling my arm over his waist.
This is new for me. I’ve never been in a relationship before and I’m not one to linger after a hook-up, but with him . . . I surprisingly don’t hate it.
“Do you make every woman who shares your bed cuddle with you?”
“I couldn’t tell you the last time I shared a bed with a woman.”
I look up to find out what the hell he’s talking about.
“I couldn’t tell you the last time I was with someone. Well before Max, I know that.”
Well, fuck me. My last bit of hope for a casual hook-up dies with those words.
“I could help with that, you know. It’d be a sacrifice for sure, having sex with you, but I’m a martyr that way.”
He chuckles. “I don’t need your charity.”
“Why not? I could use the tax write-off.”
Kai completely changes the subject. “Thank you for bringing Max to the field today. It meant the world to me.”
“I can’t believe none of his other nannies ever brought him.”
“I never asked them to. I never talked to any of them long enough to ask.”
“But you talk to me.”
His blue eyes are soft. “Yeah, Mills. I talk to you.”
I settle my head back into his chest, once again soothingly tracing the lines on his ribs.
“Besides being tempted to murder my catcher,” Kai adds with a yawn, “today was a good day.”
“They can all be good days.”
His breathing slows and his words are barely a sleepy whisper when he says, “At least for the next six weeks.”
Chapter 17
Kai
“Dadda.”
The sweet scent of sugar fills my nose as I breathe a deep inhale.
“Dadda.”
My body is melted into the mattress, my arms filled with . . . Miller.
Miller is in my bed, or rather I’m in hers.
Inhaling again, I pull her closer until her entire body is on top of mine with her head tucked into the crook of my neck.
She feels like heaven. Warm and cozy. She also feels like mine.
“Dadda.”
My eyes shoot open to find my son at the foot of the bed, perched on Monty’s arm, the two of them looking down at us.
Max is wearing a smile. Monty isn’t.
“Shit,” I breathe out.
I’m a thirty-two-year-old man getting caught in bed by someone’s father.
“Well, I’m not sure how I’m going to scrub this visual out of my brain,” he says dryly.
Miller stirs when she hears her dad’s voice, but it’s not enough to fully wake her. Instead, she nuzzles further into me, slinging her leg over my hips where I’ve got a raging case of morning wood going on. I could not be more thankful this hotel bed has a thick comforter.