Hot Stuff

Last night was…fan-fucking-tastic, and I don’t regret it one bit.

Hell, if I didn’t have the responsibilities on my plate that I do, I’d be trying my best to convince her to go again this morning.

“Lauren. Baby, wake up.”

Her eyelids flutter open slowly, and for a second, I consider the possibility of sliding right back inside her. She’s so sexy, especially when she isn’t trying, and last night was some of the best sex of my entire life. It was intense and without inhibition, and given the other aspects of her personality, kind of unexpected.

I never could have dreamed she’d have been as open and responsive and secure in her own sexiness.

The blush that so frequently finds its way into her cheeks outside the bedroom spent its time spreading over the rest of her body as I explored it.

And dear God, the woman tastes like fucking cotton candy. I would have eaten her out until she was raw if she hadn’t pulled me up her body, unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, and taken my dick in her hand.

Clearly, I’d gladly wile away the day in bed with her, but as a father, well, it’s kind of not an option. I don’t get enough time with my kids as it is. I can’t squander any of the moments I do have for the sake of another thrill.

There’ll be another chance. After last night, I’ll make sure of it.

“What is it?” she asks sleepily. “Everything okay?”

“It’s great. Fantastic,” I emphasize. “Except I have to get going, and I need to take you over to the restaurant to get your car.”

Her eyes transform from sleepy to alert in an instant, a tiny line between them creasing her forehead.

“You, um…” She fiddles with the comforter at her side with two fingers. “You have to go?”

I nod. “I don’t want to, but I have to. Please believe that. I have to get my kids.”

She nods then, seemingly resolute in her choice to believe me and let the rest of it go. I smile and kiss her cheek. When I draw back, her lips are pulled inside her mouth like she’s considering something.

“You don’t have to take me to my car. I can get someone else to take me to pick it up. I don’t want to hold you up.”

I shake my head, a piercing pain making my chest sore at the thought of leaving her to clean up after my choices last night. If I’d just have picked her up like I’d planned originally, she wouldn’t be needing to go get her car at all. “No. I want to take you. I want the time with you. Please?”

She pouts, and I kiss the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how much I don’t want to get out of this bed. But I have to go get my kids in an hour, and in the meantime, I want to spend the hour with you. Even if it means driving you back to the restaurant to get your car.”

“Ugh, fine. You’ve convinced me with your hotness.”

“My hotness?” I question.

“Mm-hmm. It’s your sleepy voice mixed with your refusal to shirk your fatherly responsibilities. I’m into it.”

I grin. “Oh yeah? You think the single dad thing is hot?”

“On you?” she questions with the lift of an eyebrow. I nod. “Unbelievably,” she says, her mouth moving in a sort of slow-motion sexiness I’d like to memorize, memorialize, and enshrine in some deep headspace that’ll never be tampered with.

“Well, you go ahead and get ready, then. I’ll prepare the coffee and the dad jokes, and hopefully endear myself to you forever.”

She laughs. “I have to tell you…the bajillion orgasms last night were a really good start.”

“For me too, babe.” For me too.

In fact, if I were going to get punny about it, I’d say this thing between Lauren and me has started with a real bang.

Lauren

I climb into his Suburban with a travel cup of coffee Garrett fixed for me. And, fresh out of the shower, my hair is still wet.

Honestly, I would have loved to take the time to dry it, but I wasn’t going to put him through the inconvenience of waiting on me for an extra fifteen minutes.

It’s bad enough that I have to live through the pain every time I do it, and he has his kids to get to.

I try to picture him as a father—doting, joking, playing. It’s not that it’s impossible, but the truth is, I’ve had very little experience with men who are actively involved in their young kids’ lives.

Nothing against my dad, but he wasn’t the guy at my gymnastics meets with a video recorder. He was too busy working. Instead, he would watch the videos my mom had taken when he got back from his shifts and last-minute, emergent callouts.