Her h*ps bucked then her body moved with agitation.

“Layne,” she said again.

He looked up at her and she was staring at him, need stark on her face. Her hands were clenching the slats in the headboard, what she’d promised. Layne got to touch, to taste, to lick, to suck and she held onto the headboard – no matter what.

“You promised, baby,” he reminded her again, using his finger to retrace its path.

A low sound came from her throat and her head fell back.

Layne grinned.

Then he looked down at her, opened her with his fingers and used his tongue to do the same thing he’d done with his finger.

Her h*ps surged up, his mouth closed over her, he pulled deep and then growled with satisfaction against her when he heard and felt her come.

* * * * *

Layne’s eyes opened.

He was on his stomach and his c**k was hard. Again. And aching. Again.

He rolled to his back, muttering, “Christ.”

He stared at the ceiling. It felt like he’d been asleep for two minutes which was about as long as he actually had been asleep since he’d spent most of his night thinking about Rocky, some of it arguing with her and the rest of it pissed at her.

Even so, he still had a dream. All of them were different, some hotter than others, but only by shades and degrees.

This one, however, was the best so far.

He put the dream out of his head when he heard the boys’ shower going. He turned and looked at the clock. Six twenty-seven and they were up on their own, or at least one of them was. A miracle.

He gave himself a minute to get his body under control then he got up, went to the bathroom, did his thing, went to his dresser, grabbed a tee, tugged it on and left his room. He checked Tripp’s room first. Light on, bed unmade, clothes and shit everywhere, Tripp not there. The shower was still on so he walked down the hall to Jasper’s room and found it the same as Tripp’s. Light on, room a mess, Jasper not there.

He walked down the stairs and halfway down saw Blondie outside, panting against the glass, body swinging side to side, tail whipping around. He walked directly to the sliding glass door but turned to see Tripp was emptying the dishwasher. Another miracle.

“Hey Pal,” Layne greeted.

Tripp looked at him and smiled. “Hey Dad.”

“Is that Tripp?” Layne asked, sliding open the door, Blondie shot in and began instantly to dance around him. Once the dog was clear of the door, he threw the door to.

“What?” Tripp asked back as Layne walked to the coffeepot.

“You Tripp?” Layne repeated.

“Well…” Tripp stared at him, a funny look on his face, “yeah.”

Layne pulled the filter out of the coffeemaker. “You sure? See, the real Tripp doesn’t unload the dishwasher unless I’ve asked him ten times. I remember askin’ you to do it last night but that was only once. I got nine more to go.”

Tripp’s comically confused face split into a smile and he muttered, “Shut up, Dad,” before he turned back to the dishwasher.

“You feed Blondie?” Layne asked but he knew Tripp hadn’t because Blondie was dancing between both him and his son, unsure which one of them was going to end her enforced fast, and if she’d been fed she’d pick one or the other to bug.

“Not yet. Just got downstairs. She’s only been out a few minutes.” Tripp answered.

“I’ll get her after I make coffee. You get breakfast after you finish with that.”

“Okay,” Tripp agreed and shoved some plates into a cupboard.

Layne made the coffee and started to feed Blondie but stopped when he was about to plop the food in the dirty bowl. He stared at the bowl a second then cleaned it before he fed his son’s dog. By the time he set down the bowl, Blondie was beside herself and Layne added a trip to the Garden Center to his day’s agenda to buy her more bowls so they could put them in the dishwasher and she didn’t have her breakfast delayed.

Layne had a cup of coffee in his hand, his h*ps against the counter by the sink and Tripp was sitting at the island spooning up cereal when Jasper showed. He let his oldest son get his cereal and sit by his brother before he moved to stand in front of them at the island.

“Spoke to your Mom yesterday. She wants you guys to stay with me next week.”

Tripp had been looking at him while he talked and when he finished, his head dropped down to look at the milk in his bowl. Jasper had been looking at him too but his head didn’t drop down. Layne watched anger flash through his features before he looked away and Layne saw a muscle tick in his cheek.

This was another reason why he knew they were his boys. They’d pegged Stew before Layne even moved home. They didn’t like him and they didn’t like spending time with him. But more, they didn’t like him with their Mom.

Gabby might be a bitch to Layne but she loved her kids and they loved her. For this reason, Layne knew they were torn. When they spent time with her and Stew, when he got them back, they were both tense to the point of wired and it took a couple of days for them to settle in. Even not liking Layne, Jasper obviously liked him more than Stew because he relaxed when he was at Layne’s house. Then they’d go back and it’d happen all over again.

This caused Layne concern but neither of them had shared and he felt it important to let them deal with it how they saw fit. They needed him, they needed to man up and ask. Until then, it was up to them to cope.

They were torn because he knew they preferred to be at Layne’s house because Stew wasn’t there. But they didn’t want to be away from their Mom because Stew was there. If Stew wasn’t there, he wondered how they’d be. Tripp probably would take it in stride. Jasper would probably be more of an ass**le.

“That cool with you guys?” Layne asked and they both looked at him.

“Yeah,” Tripp answered.

“Whatever,” Jasper muttered.

That was the best he was going to get from Jas and he’d take it.

Then Jasper decided to take his anger out on Layne and Layne knew this because Jasper stated, “Mrs. Astley is thirty-eight years old.”

This was a bizarre statement leading into unknown territory but considering he was referring to Raquel at all, Layne braced.

“Yeah,” Layne confirmed. “How’d you know that?”

“Kids know everything about Mrs. Astley,” Jasper answered.

Layne bet they did.

“You were twenty-five when Mom had me,” Jasper went on.

Layne studied his son and prompted, “Your point, Jas?”