Page 62 of Dr. Single Dad

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, cupping my neck. “I don’t think I realized how beautiful until I saw you that first night with your hair down.”

“Backgammon night?” I ask.

A grin spreads across his face. “Backgammon night.”

That was the night things started to shift.

“You know I let you win that second game.”

He chuckles. “Sure you did.”

We stand there in my bedroom doorway for seconds, minutes, hours, staring at each other, on the precipice of something.

His thumb sweeps across my lips and then he bends to kiss me. My body sags in relief. It’s been such a long time coming. In this moment, I feel I’m right where I’m meant to be. What’s happening brings so many complications, so much ambiguity, but it doesn’t stop me. It’s like there’s an external force keeping me where I am, preventing me from running, from letting my logical brain take over. It’s as if the choice has been made for me by forces bigger and stronger than I could ever hope to be.

It feels like being here with Dax is my only option—and I’m not looking for an out.

TWENTY-FOUR

Dax

There are a thousand reasons why this is a bad idea, but I can’t think of any of them right now. All I can do is feel Eira’s soft skin under my fingers, smell the scent of honey and rose petals, and listen to the sounds of Eira’s breathing falling into the same rhythm as mine. It’s as if every minute we’re together, we bind tighter, like the external world falls away and we exist on our own plane, free from consequence.

Her fingers trail under my t-shirt and I groan. I’m not sure I’m going to survive this.

She pulls at my waistband and we tumble back into her bedroom and onto her bed. I crawl on top of her and press up on my hands, looking down at her, her hair splayed out on the bed behind her.

She looks like a goddess.

All goodness and light and beauty.

A sudden pull inside me warns that I can’t fuck this up, that this is important. It’s the start of something.

My gaze snags on her mouth as she bites down on her bottom lip.

She’s not just sweet. She’s also sexy as fuck.

“You okay?” she asks.

I answer her with a kiss. She tastes so sweet, and instantly I regret waiting this long to kiss her again. There’s been too much wasted time.

Her fingers thread into my hair and grasp my shoulder. My body tightens at her touch. She shifts her hips under me and my jaw slackens. Every move she makes is totally mesmerizing.

Her fingers move down, down, down to the edge of my t-shirt and she pushes it up. I take it off, then she reaches for her shirt. I watch as she peels the white cotton from her body, slowly revealing the skin I know is so soft. I dip and press kisses from her collarbone, down between her breasts, over her bra, to her stomach. I enjoy how she writhes and shifts, wanting more.

I snap off her bra and continue my exploration, kissing, pressing, licking—feeling.

“My underwear is…it’s not exactly sexy.”

I let out a grunt. “I’m not looking at your underwear.” I shift down the bed and peel her jeans off as I go. She’s wearing plain white cotton knickers that come off perfectly easily—my only criteria for Eira’s underwear.

I press a kiss to her pussy and breathe her in. Her scent fills me up and I’m so hard, I could knock down a wall with my dick right about now.

But that’s not what I want to be doing with it.

“Dax,” Eira whispers.

I press my tongue against her clit and soak up her heat and wetness. God, this feels so good.Shefeels so good. It’s like every sensation with Eira is magnified tenfold. I part her legs and then slide my hands behind her bottom. I want to make sure I’m in complete control of what happens now. Something tells me it’swhat Eira needs: me to give her pleasure. Me to lead the way. Me, period.

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