Page 68 of Late Nights & Love Lines
His laughter melds with the ocean sounds into a harmonious symphony in my mind. “Let’s start with five minutes. Think you can handle five minutes of my body holding yours?”
The truth is, I don’t know.
“Try, for me,” he whispers.
His quiet words weave through my mind, pulling the anxiety from me as I sink into his touch. I’m painfully aware of every connection our bodies make. How his chin rests on the top of my head. His arm, hanging heavy but strong as concrete across mybelly—his hand a vice on my sternum. How his legs curl into the bend of mine and our ankles tangle together.
My mind screams at me to pull away. I’ve spent years lying to myself, telling myself I don’t desire affection, that I don’t need it, so it doesn’t hurt as much when I hold myself at night. But with his arms around me, the pins and needles poking at my skin slowly fade to a full-body hum.
Five minutes. I can do it. I can handle anything for five minutes.
“Relax,” he says quietly into my ear. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
I frownand force my eyes open as I settle into something soft.
“Seb?”
“Shh, go back to sleep. You’re in your bed. As much as I wanted to carry you to mine, I’m afraid we won’t wake up before the kids. But don’t, for one minute, allow that mind of yours to think that I don’t want you lying beside me.”
He kisses my forehead, and that quiet peacefulness slowly relaxes my muscles. A genuine smile tugs at my lips while my lashes flutter closed and darkness takes me under.
Incessant buzzingnear my head has me swatting away the fly before I even open my eyes.
Oh. Not a fly. It’s my phone.
What the hell? Am I hungover? How did I get here?
My pelvis aches with the delicious memory of what made me sore, but before that vision can turn into a nightmare in my mind, my phone buzzes again, and I answer it blindly.
“Single Dad Hotline, I’m your helper. How can I help you?” I rasp.
“You are alive.” Seb’s voice is silky and smooth, and it makes the hair on my arms stand at attention.
It also makes my clit pulse with memories, but I won’t allow those thoughts into my mind right now.
“What?” I glance down at my phone. Nine in the morning! What the hell? I’m always up by seven in case the kids need me. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’ll be right down.”
“Stop.” His command does unthinkable things to my body.
“We’re fine. The kids are all still sleeping.”
“Then…why are you calling me? This number is for the hotline.”
“And you’re still assigned as my helper.” His smile sounds through the phone.
“Is that right? Then what’s up? What do you need help with?” I ask, pressing myself back into my pillow.
“Right now, I’m in bed with a raging hard-on, remembering how you came around my cock last night. Every.” He groans, and I imagine him stroking himself. “Single. Thing.”
My hand slips closer to my pussy.
I can’t do this.
I shouldn’t do this.
Maybe just once?
“Sebastian,” I scold. “This is a hotline for daddy help. You’re so lucky these calls aren’t recorded.”
