Page 60 of The Single Dad's Guide to Recreation

I’ve never had more fun in my entire life.

And then I think of something that would be even more fun.

Avery is slightly less paint covered than I am, so she drives us back to the cabin. On the way, I share my current concern with her. “I think we really need to think about conserving water.”

She shoots me a look like,I see where you’re going with this. “I’m not sure showering together will actually save water.”

“You could be right.” Since I’m not behind the wheel, I just watch the woman next to me, imagining stripping her slowly.

“What?” She glances over at me briefly. “What’s going on over there?”

I point ahead. “Eyes on the road, missy. We need to get to the cabin in one piece if I’m going to get you clean.”

She keeps her gaze forward, but the way she squirms in the seat has me raring to go. The minute she parks the cart, I’m on my feet. Before hers hit the ground, I’m scooping her up off the seat. She squeals in protest as I carry her up the steps, but she has the key out of her bag and the door open before I can ask, and her head nestles into my shoulder with a sigh as I carry her over the threshold and kick the door shut behind me.

I get the shower going and strip us both out of our paint-sticky clothes. She steps in first, moaning with pleasure under the warm spray, but when she reaches for the shampoo, I ask, “May I take it from here?”

Her eyes spark as she turns to face me, and when she hands me the bottle, she holds up her hands as if in surrender. “It’s all yours. My hair is a pain in the bus.”

“How dare you insult these golden tresses?” I ask with mock indignation. “We’ll just have to lather, rinse, and repeat until you can appreciate them.”

I tip up her chin and protect her eyes while I wet her hair. After I add a big dollop of the rosemary scented hotel shampoo and work it through the soft strands, I begin to massage her scalp.

She groans, her hand reaching for the wall.

“Too much?”

“Just right,” she says on an exhale. “Feels so good.”

I only rinse and repeat one time, but after we scrub off the paint splotches, I nestle her back to my front, encourage her to lean against me, and caress her seam and clit and breasts while the water rains down until she cries out and the waves of a climax rock through her.

And then I dry her off and take her to bed to do it all over again, but this time, I fill her with everything I’ve got.

It’s not easy to separate my naked body from hers, but our stomachs talk us into returning to the larger group for dinner. On the drive over, Avery worries about her hair looking a mess, but no one seems to notice. Instead, her team drags her to their winning spot at the front of the dinner line. Instead of following, I do a little networking. After another inspiring keynote, this time from a CEO passionate about his work with his community partners, conversation flows as we each share what we’ve learned.

After dinner, we break out into small groups again, but this time I’m in a group with others from the private sector. It’s refreshing to see how many in upper management really believe in the upsides of making their communities better places to live. I offer a few ideas, but mostly I’m jotting down notes, soaking up my peers’ experiences like the heart-shaped sponge I toss into my kids’ bath.

Later, Avery and I make love again and then just lie there talking about anything and everything until our words come further and further apart and we relax into sleep.

ChapterTwenty-One

AVERY

Sunday morning, I somehow wake up horny. I can’t count the number of big O’s I’ve enjoyed this weekend, because every time we’re alone, there’s touching and talking that turns me on. I just wish this feeling could last.

In college, there were just too many men to meet. I didn’t want to stick with just one, so things were always exciting and new. Later, when Peter and I decided to move in together, things got routine pretty quickly. I figured that’s what happens. You trade novel and thrilling for trusted and ordinary.

It’s hard to imagine that happening with Josh, though. Something about him makes me want to try new things. Take risks. And not just here in bed, but at work and in the rest of my life.

“You know,” the man of my thoughts murmurs next to me, “I have to admit something.”

My gut tenses for a moment, ready for the shoe to drop. But when he nuzzles into my back, the fear dissipates, and I turn to face him. “Tell me. I can take it.”

A half grin lifts one side of his mouth, like he’s not quite awake enough to work both sides. His hand curves over my waist to caress my hip, circling over my bum to dip between my cheeks. My leg loops over him of its own accord until I’m straddling him, rocking my needy center into his growing erection.

Josh's grin is now symmetrical, but he’s obviously still half in dreamland as I work him over, running my nails over his abs—not a six-pack maybe, but definitely a four—before following with my torso. His expression is so blissful, I want to keep him in this state, so instead of moving up his body to kiss him awake, I move down, following the happy trail.

When I fist him, his shaft jumps. When I take the head between my lips, his hips lift off the bed.

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