wreaking havoc with his restraint.
Fuuck. He gritted his teeth, telling his throbbing cock to behave. He hadn’t been with a woman since he’d first set eyes on Leah in early May. This was going to be torture.
He touched his shirt. “Want me to leave this on?”
She shook her head, and with shaky hands, she pushed his shirt over his shoulders, going up on her toes to push it the rest of the way off. It fell to the floor as her fingers trailed over the tattoos on his shoulders and chest as if she were reading braille. She traced Ashley’s name over his heart and ran her fingers lightly over one pierced nipple. A low sound of appreciation escaped before he could silence it.
Her brows knitted, and her eyes flicked up to his as she whispered, “Do those hurt?”
“They’re for pleasure, not pain.”
She seemed to think about that for a second, nibbling on her lower lip and making him ache even more. Her fingers trailed down the tattoos between his pecs, and she traced the ink on his stomach, stopping abruptly, eyes trained on his newest tattoo—RIVER—across the left side of his abs.
Her eyes flicked up to his, and the emotions in them did him in. She didn’t say a word as she pressed a kiss over Ashley’s name and another over River’s. With a small smile, she took his hand and led him into the bedroom. They left the bedroom door open and climbed onto the bed. He gathered her against him. His thighs pressed against the backs of her legs, her slim body against his chest, her ass nestled within the curve of his hips. She laced her fingers with his, holding them against her chest. He was twice her size, but they fit together as if he were built solely for her. He was still wearing his jeans, and there was nothing sexual about the moment, but he’d never felt so in tune with and connected to another person.
He held her tight, burying his face in her curls and breathing her in, whispering, “Rest, baby. You’re safe with me,” but she’d already drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Ten
WAKEFULNESS DRIFTED IN slowly, bringing two consecutive thoughts to Leah’s groggy mind. River was gone, and she was lying in bed alone. She rolled onto her back, feeling like she’d slept for a month and knowing it was because of Tank. She stared up at the ceiling with a heaviness in her chest for the absence of that split second of thinking River was still alive. She had thought that moment was painful when she’d experienced it these last few days, but waking up with the certainty of knowing he was gone was just as agonizing.
The sounds of giggles sailed in through the closed bedroom door, and Leah bolted up to a sitting position. Had they seen Tank in her bed, shirtless? She thought about his thickly muscled, tattooed body and pierced nipples. She practically salivated over the image blooming before her, but he was a whole lot of man for her, much less for her baby girls to see.
She scrambled out of bed, threw on a sweatshirt, and pulled open her bedroom door. Tank and the girls looked over from where they sat on a blanket in the middle of the living room floor. Junie was wearing Tank’s black leather vest over her pajama top, Rosie was sitting on her knees, holding a spoonful of yogurt next to Tank’s mouth, and Tank was wearing his dress shirt from last night with a pink bib tied around his neck. He had yogurt in his beard and on his shirt. His raised brows and crooked smile told her he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten himself into that situation, but his eyes gave away his enjoyment.
“We havin’ a tea pawty!” Junie announced. “I’m the papa!”
“I Mama!” Rosie shoved the spoon toward Tank’s mouth, dumping more yogurt on his beard. “Feedin’ baby!”
Leah snort-laughed, and covered her mouth.
“They found me on the couch when they woke up,” Tank reassured her.
She had no idea how he knew she needed to know that, but she was relieved not to have to explain why Tank was in her bed.
“Wanna play?” Rosie asked.
“You can be Gwampa and ask Tank to get you cookies,” Junie said.
Tank patted the space beside him.
She lowered herself to the blanket and whispered, “You should have woken me up.”
“And miss all this? Not a chance.”
AFTER A MORNING of yogurt spills and baking cookies—because Gwampa