Page 25 of Wrong Number, Right Single Dad
Kicking off my shoes, I tug his shirt loose from his jeans and fumble with the buttons. I push the flannel from his shoulders and tear my lips from his, only long enough to tug the T-shirt beneath over his head.
He’s no less eager to strip me bare.
He works at the buttons on the back of my dress. Lightly trailing his fingers over the skin as he exposes more. Stroking it. Gently. As if he’s uncovering a precious treasure that must be cherished.
The dress pools to the floor and he releases my mouth. Trailing wet hot kisses down my neck, his firm hands slide up from my hips, cupping my breasts.
I moan as his thumb swipes over my nipple. The tip hardens under his touch and sends a jolt of pleasure to the pit of my belly.
His mouth moves lower, railing kisses over the swell of my breasts, tracing the edge of my satin bra. He pushes aside one of the cups and lowers his lips to my nipple. Sucking it into his mouth, sending fresh waves of heat throughout me.
My knees wobble. He slides one arm around my waist to hold me upright while he wages his assault.
“That feels so good,” I murmur, wishing I had the words to say more.
“You taste so good,” he whispers against my breast before turning his attention to the other.
I can only stand the sweet treatment for so long.
No longer patient enough to guide him to my bedroom, I pull him down to the floor. Stripping our last remnants of clothing.
By the time he’s sheathed in a condom and settled between my thighs, I’m insensible to everything but him and the intermingling feelings of love and desire pulsing through me.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
I nod. “Make me yours.”
Linking his fingers with mine and holding them over our head, he slowly eases inside of me.
We gasp together as he fills me inch by delicious inch. Once he’s fully embedded, we lie there, wrapped around each other, staring into each other's eyes. Savoring the sensation of being good and truly connected.
And when he starts to move again in long, languid strokes, a tear slips down my cheeks.
For the first time in my life, I’m engaged in an act that isn’t just about pleasure.
It’s making love with the man I love.
EPILOGUE
JARED
We’ve barely pulled into the fire house garage when a new text message flashes on my screen.
It reads, simply, “Baby.”
My heart hitches, and one of the rookies eyes me cautiously.
“You don’t look so good,” he says.
“He’s right,” another guy says. “You’ve gone completely pale.”
“Is something wrong?” the crew chief asks. “Do you need us to take you to the doctor?”
With a shake of my head, I snap out of my stupor. “It’s from my wife.”
Understanding dawns on their faces. The rookie takes my helmet. The other guy grabs my duffle bag from the locker.
The crew chief cuffs me on the shoulder. “You’d better get going then. We have you covered here.”
