Who's the Daddy (Crescent Cove 3)

Just for thirty blissful minutes. A few nights ago. I was still recovering.

Dare.

And oh my God, was I out of shape. Not just the sexy times kind of shape either. Though, hi, that was definitely a whole new workout.

What the hell had I been thinking?

Oh, right, I hadn’t been. I’d been going with the flow. And that flow…yeah, I’d never experienced anything like it. I didn’t even know orgasms were like that.

Sure, I’d had my own version of them. And even my ex had managed to use friction to his advantage a time or two. But nothing like that.

I swung my legs off the couch and whimpered. Helped that I didn’t have a roommate to hear the actual old lady noises coming out of me. Sleeping on the lumpy couch the last few nights didn’t help. When I’d rented out the place, I’d bounced on the couch and thought it was so springy and comfy.

Yeah.

Not when you slept on it for six hours at a clip.

I definitely had to look into a bed. There was a furniture store across from my apartment building. I’d been busy unpacking on Sunday and by the time I remembered to go over to check into it, they’d been closed. Then I ended up getting dragged over to Sage and Oliver’s house for a picnic on Labor Day.

The furniture place wasn’t open because hello, Labor Day. And okay, maybe I’d been avoiding my bedroom.

That had to stop.

I’d stop in on the way home from work.

Work. My first day of meetings and pre-planning for school. The kids got a few extra days before starting the new year. For teachers, it was madcap planning and endless meetings.

I shuffled into the bathroom and set the shower to scalding. I snapped the shower curtain open and paused. I hadn’t had time to put that up before falling onto my face Saturday night.

Why hadn’t I noticed that before? Like during the two showers I’d taken since.

Because you were exhausted and delirious and oblivious, idiot.

Dare.

No. Do not get all squishy because he put up a curtain.

There was no time in my life to get hung up on a guy just because we’d had an interlude.

Yeah, getting literally fucked into my hardwood floor like it was Dare’s job wasn’t an interlude.

Man. I shook the curtain. Not just the plastic, but the pretty purple flowered second layer on the double hook.

Dammit.

He wasn’t supposed to be sweet. He was supposed to give me a screamer of an orgasm and nothing more.

Okay, so pizza too.

But that was it.

I flipped off my unicorn T-shirt and boxers and stepped into the small shower stall in my miniature bathroom. Sugarsnaps. It still smelled like him. Like me and him after we’d collapsed together.

It had been days. I had to be imagining I could still smell him everywhere.

He’d even put my soap and one of my fluffy poofs into the shower caddy hanging off the shower head. His washcloth still hung off the faucet. Okay, yes, I’d moved it a few times and put it back where he had because clearly, I was a sap.

No, not really. It was just because I hadn’t set up my laundry corner yet.