Page 22 of Summer with a Single Dad

“Yum. Did you get whipped cream?” His tone implied he had the same idea I did.

“And ice cream. I thought we could eat them in bed.” Just the thought made my body quiver with need.

“First, pizza. Then your dessert.” He pressed his mouth to my neck. “And then my dessert,” he whispered against my ear.

I turned in his arms and drank him down, his little innuendos rousing the need to have him now.

“I can’t wait.” I sprang out of his hold and called the dogs. “Go play,” I said, opening the door for them. I watched for a moment, then leaped back into Chris’s arms.

“Should we take this to the bedroom?” he asked when I started undressing him.

“Nope. I need you now.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. “What kind of man would I be to deny you?”

I gasped when he yanked me to him. His mouth crashed to mine, tongues and teeth colliding in a maddening kiss. We sank to the floor, ripping the rest of our clothes away.

Before long, Chris had me crying out, thrusting into me with wicked circular motions of his hips. We were both sweating, with no space between us, as our bodies slapped and slid together.

“Yes, Chris. Oh, god . . . I’m so close.” I dragged my nails down his back, clutching and clawing like a mad woman until my orgasm blasted through me.

“Oh, Emily,” he grunted, shutting his eyes as he exploded deep inside.

Still linked, he opened his eyes and looked at me. “You are so damn beautiful, baby.”

I snorted a laugh and kissed him, imagining my face a sweaty mess like his.

But still, he was right. This—us—was beautiful.

An hour later, we were sitting in bed with ice packs pressed to our faces.

“I can’t believe that fucker headbutted me,” Chris said beside me. “Who knew a dog’s head was that hard.”

“Um,” I said, lifting my hand.

After we ate our pizza, we’d gone out back and tossed balls with the boys. Chris had his head turned to me with the ball clutched in his hand. He was mid-story, telling me about the guy he hired to build the dog run at his house when Luke charged forward in an Olympic kind of sprint. I didn’t have time to warn him. He turned to throw the ball when Luke slammed right into him.

Chris chuckled, then groaned. “Aren’t we a pair?”

It wasn’t funny at the time, but now that we were settled down, we could kind of laugh about it.

“Hopefully, you won’t get a black eye.”

He turned to me. “Let me take a look again,” he said.

I dropped my hand, and he cupped my face. “How is it?”

“It’s not too bad.” He brushed his thumb across my cheek.

“Nothing a little cover-up won’t fix.” I pulled his hand away to look at his forehead. “You probably won’t need make-up. But you have a gnarly knot. Keep icing it.”

We settled back onto the pillows as our dogs snored peacefully on the floor.

“I had plans for that whipped cream,” I said a minute later.

“That sounds interesting.”

“It might have been fun.”

---