Page 3 of Soren the Single Dad
The sass in her tone sends my dick punching forward in response, eager to tame her pretty little mouth, but I keep my cool.Sort of.I grunt my approval and turn to study the rest of the living room while she disappears into her bedroom.
This space is a wide open rectangle with the living area on one side and the kitchen on the other. One hallway splits the middle, leading to a bedroom and bathroom. It’s a cozy set-up.
Too cozy.
There’s nowhere to take refuge from Diana’s enticing presence.
“Here you go.” A long-sleeved tee and gray sweatpants land on the arm of the couch. “I’ll give you a few minutes to change, then we can break out the alcohol to help warm up.” She mutters something else under her breath, but I don’t quite catch it before she’s gone again.
Dragging my wet flannel off, I tug on the dry clothes and sigh as they cut into my body at different sections. I’m sure I look like the Hulk about to bust the seams on Diana’s shirt and pants, but what other option do I have?
Besides, the uncomfortable dig of fabric into my shoulders and elbows is nothing compared to the thick ridge of arousal showcased down my thigh. The gray sweatshirt material molds to my cock like a vacuum-seal, which means hiding the monster length is damn near impossible.
My brothers would have a field day with this development. My sister, Kennedy, too. They think I need to relax. Have more fun. And a one-night stand with a stranger would be a hell of a lot of fun.
Until reality hits in the morning that I’m a single dad who’s vowed to never let another woman hijack my life again.
CHAPTER THREE
DIANA
Shadows flicker across the ceiling as I tilt my head to down a second shot of tequila. My eyes squeeze shut with the burn of alcohol warming my throat and chest. It’ll probably be my last for the night since I don’t plan on getting drunk with a giant stranger sitting next to me.
A giant,sexystranger.
Unbidden, my gaze drops to his lap where the largest dick imprint I’ve ever seen keeps a steady rush of arousal coursing through my body. I lick my lips. God, Ireallywant to know what that feels like in my mouth.In my pussy.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything but silicone between my thighs and breaking that celibate streak with the steel rod Soren’s packing? A shiver of anticipation erupts at the possibility.
“Are you still cold? I can add another log to the fire.” Soren shuffles toward the fireplace to toss a log on the crackling flames, causing the sweatpants to adhere to his firm ass.
Get a grip, Diana!I’m not usually an ass girl, but everything about this man has me aching in need. Suddenly, I’m a horny teenager instead of a respectable thirty-six-year-old woman.
“Thanks,” I mumble, setting the empty glass tumbler on the floor beside me. We moved the coffee table out of the way, sothe couch could be shoved closer to the fire. Now, we’re both sitting on a faded rug with our backs leaning against the couch. “You said your daughter is with her mom this weekend. You’re divorced?”
I’m desperate to know if he’s single. If there’s a shot for something more tonight.
If I’m brave enough to reach for it, that is.
“Never married. Got close, though.” He scrubs a hand over his beard and sighs. “Marsha and I were high school sweethearts, then we had an on-again/off-again relationship until she got pregnant. I proposed, we set a date after Sara Beth’s birth, then Marsha decided she wasn't ready to settle down and dumped both of us.”
“I’m so sorry. That sounds horrible.”
He shrugs, his broad shoulders stretching my old tee. “It was over a decade ago. We’re on better terms now.”
“But no chance of getting back together,” I double-check for my own peace of mind. “And no one else has taken her spot yet.”
“Nope, and no one will. Sara Beth is my life now. She’s got plenty of family between my grandpa and siblings.”
“How many? I’ve got a younger brother.”
“Try having three younger brothers and a little sister. I’m the eldest.” He finishes his tequila shot and rests his head on the sofa cushion.
“You mean the responsible, rule-following perfectionist? I know it well. My brother, Titus, is seven years younger than me—a surprise baby—and a whirlwind of rebellion. I love him, but his antics are hard on our parents.”
“So, you make sure that whatever you do doesn’t burden them, too,” he finishes my unspoken words.
A tenuous bond of understanding twines between us.
