Page 27 of Single Mom's Secret Diary
But I want to know what’s in there. I want to know what she’s writing about.
I sit there for another fifteen minutes, listening to the even keel of her breath before I break, slipping the notebook into my lap. Flipping it open to a random page, I spot my name.
So, is this for work or… No, it can’t be. Not when I see the wordcockjump out at me.
I flip back to the beginning of that entry, the lines about me, Wyatt, and Ryder, how much tension has built between us. And then—then she delves into a full-blown fantasy of the three of us taking her together, all at once.
Fuck, it’s hot.
14
Ryder
Avery has been out of it for the last few days, sleeping most of the time, eating and drinking a little, but falling right back into La-La Land. So when she opens her eyes at me with renewed clarity, it takes my breath away.
I slip to my knees at her bedside and push back the hair from her face. “Hey, beautiful. How are you feeling?”
Her grunt is sweet and makes me smile.
“That good, huh?”
“I want to get out of bed. I’m sick of it. My body hurts.” Her hand comes down on top of mine, where it rests behind her head, lightly grazing her cheek with my thumb.
“Well, you’ve just come out of being really sick, darling. I bet you’re hurting.” I lay my head beside hers on my arm, and I can see that ornery personality rearing its head. “What can I do to help?”
She huffs. “Help me sit up, and let me move around.”
Without waiting for my answer, she shoves herself up on a shaky arm. I slide mine under her to keep her upright, and my body burns as she leans into me.
“Are you sure you have the energy?”
Another soft groan, and her arm flexes around my neck, gripping me hard. I gather her in my arms and swing her off the mattress.
“Let me walk,” she insists, and the fanning of her breath across my collarbone sends a small shiver through me.
Slowly, I lower her feet to the floor and keep her stable with my hands cupping her waist. It takes us a few minutes to walk out to her couch, where she unceremoniously flops down on the corner cushion, breathing heavily.
I retrieve some water and crackers, which she munches on slowly. I slide under her feet, bringing them into my hands for a squeeze. A small, whimpering moan escapes her, stirring my dick to life. Fucking monster knows what it wants but is completely out of line.
Refocusing, I drag a knuckle up her arch and watch her eyes flutter closed, her face pinching from the pressure points I hit. Popping her toes makes her grunt.
“So, what happened?” Her voice is soft and small.
My ministrations move up to her ankles, and I earn another of her sharp intakes of breath. God, she’s magnificent. Hair tousled and half falling from its ponytail, whisps stick to her cheeks and neck. The side of her face is lined from her pillowcase, and her natural tan has dulled, but she’s still so fucking beautiful it hurts.
Another nibble on the cracker has her narrowing her eyes at me. Not even a stint in the ER can stop this woman.
“Someone poisoned the chocolates Wyatt made for you.” How it happened is still up for debate. We haven’t found anything on the surveillance tapes, no fingerprints or clues as towho accessed them. The finished product was kept in his office, but while the different elements came together, anyone in the lab could have messed with them.
“Who was it?” Her voice dropped lower, seemingly more tired than angry or indignant.
“We don’t know yet. We can’t find any evidence. Don’t worry about it. We’re looking into it. You just rest.”
Avery makes a noncommittal noise, watching me from where her head slides onto the back cushion of the couch.
I lean my head to stare back at her. Those hazel eyes are more beautiful every time I look into them.
“Where’s Charlie?”
