Page 44 of The Single Dad's Guide to Recreation

Another shudder rolls down my torso, obliterating all worries about work-life Josh because personal-life Josh is… So. Dang. Hawt. “Yep,” I answer, my voice reedy. “That’s correct.”

“Hmm. Where should we start?”

“I guess that depends.”

“On what?”

“Are you a boob man? A butt man? A leg man? Or…”

“I appreciate the entire package, actually. But I think I’d start by exploring the gap between the bottoms and the top.”

I’m glad he can’t see my grimace. “Ugh.”

“That doesn’t do it for you?”

“It’s just, I don’t exactly have a six-pack.”

He snorts. “Neither do I. Overrated, if you ask me. Besides, I’m imagining how soft that skin is. How it would feel if I ran my palm over your belly.”

“It’s soft all right.”

“Can you do it? Tell me what you feel? What you see?”

I set the phone on the pillow next to me, push down the covers, and pull up my shirt. As my fingers trace the noticeable scars near my belly button, I realize I might have to tell Josh about the salpingectomy before we get naked in person. Pushing that to the side for the moment, I sit up on my elbows. “Um, my skin’s pretty pale. I burn easily, so I avoid the sun as much as possible.”

“Which makes it even softer, I bet.”

“It is soft. The skin is very soft, and—” Self-consciousness about my pear shape fades as I lie back and imagine Josh exploring my torso. “I can just feel the tiny hairs under my fingers.”

“And if you move your hand farther down? What’s the hair like?”

I can’t help but snort. “Well, the curtains don’t exactly match the drapes.”

He laughs. “I never knew exactly what that meant, but I think I get the idea. You’re saying the carpet isn’t honey gold and straight? Or is it the curtains?”

“The ones the world doesn’t see are short and curly and light brown.”

“And if I ran my fingers through it and dipped in between the curls to your folds, would you be wet right now?”

“I…” My mouth is suddenly dry, like all the moisture inside fled south. “Don’t know.”

“Will you check for me?”

His voice holds the perfect blend of dare and curiosity, and I’m completely in its thrall as his questions shift to requests and then to commands. My eyes close as the fingers of my right hand circle. As he tells me how hard he is for me, how he’s pumping his length, wishing he was inside me, I can almost feel his weight and warmth on top of me. My fingers rub harder, and my hips lift off the bed, demanding more.

His breath is labored as he urges me on. “Yes,” he moans. “I want to hear you come, Avery. Will you come for me?”

My answer is lost in gasps and a keening whine as a climax rocks me hard. Aftershocks continue to pulse beneath my hand as he releases a guttural moan followed by a low laugh.

And then I’m laughing too. My hand still tucked between my legs, I curl into a ball to face the phone next to me, giggling.

Several minutes later, we both seem to settle, and I let out a sigh. “Wow.”

“Yeah?”

“Now I can’t wait to do that IRL.”

At this point, I’d settle for justseeingJosh IRL. First, he was out of town for work. When he returned, the only times he was free, I either had a CPR event or one of my parents needed me.

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