Page 38 of Nailed (Dad Bod Contracting 3)
I roll to my side, breathing hard, beaded with sweat, shaky with exhausted, sated bliss. “I don’t know, but it does.”
He tangles the fingers of his left hand into my right. “So it’s not just me?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. The first time was mind-blowing. The second time was even more mind-blowing.”
“And rounds three through…which number was this? Six? Seven?”
“Seven, I think. And it was honestly life changing.” I laugh. “I don’t think I’ve had this much sex all at once since…well, ever.”
“Me either.” He chuckles. “I’m forty-three—I didn’t think I COULD have this much sex all at once.”
It’s Sunday, just past noon. The preceding, um…a lot of hours—since Friday night—have been spent in this hotel room. We ordered room service when we were hungry, slept when we felt like sleeping, and pretty much every single intervening moment was spent either having sex or talking. I’ve had sex in positions I’d either not known were possible, or had forgotten about. I’ve had so many orgasms I lost count—usually two or three per round, which means at least…god, I’m really bad at math. Fourteen? Twenty-one? Somewhere in there. More orgasms than I thought was capable of surviving. Missionary position, me on top, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, standing up, in the shower, on the floor, on the couch, lying down facing each other, spooning…and other positions I don’t know the names for.
Ryder brushes a lock of my hair away. “Would you think less of me if I said I didn’t think I could go again if I tried?
“God, no! I’m so sore right now, I think I’ll need at least a week to recover.” I cover myself with one hand. “I’m going to be walking funny for a few days, I think.”
He blows out a sigh. “Thank god we’re on the same page. My poor balls need a break.”
I cup the body part in question. “Awww. The poor babies. They’ve done a lot of work the last thirty-six hours, or whatever it’s been.”
Ryder hauls me up against his chest and cradles my head in the nook of his arm. “I need a quick nap, and then we can actually shower, and actually put on clothes, and actually have lunch before you have to go pick up your kid.”
I nuzzle closer, wrapping an arm over his waist. “Sounds good to me. I don’t think we slept more than four or five hours last night.”
I feel myself slipping under into sleep almost immediately. As I do, I murmur the truth that’s been bubbling inside me since Friday night. “Ryder? If I wasn’t already falling for you, I am now for sure.”
He doesn’t answer, and I figure he’s asleep already. But then, as I drift and twist and flutter deeper into sleep, I hear him rumble in a drowsy, sleepy voice.
“I started to fall for you the first time I laid eyes on you, Laurel. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.”
The only response I’m capable of is a tightening of my fingers into his waist, letting him know I heard him. And then, happy and sated and exhausted, I tumble the rest of the way into sleep.
I wake abruptly and sit bolt upright. “SHIT! What time is it?”
Panic slams through me as I twist to look at the clock on the table beside the hotel bed: 3:36.
“Whass’mater?” Ryder mumbles.
“It’s three thirty and I have to pick Nate up at four.” I scramble out of bed. “I have to go. Like now.”
Ryder sits up, blinking blearily. “Hey, relax. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll be fine.”
I can’t go pick him up stinking and sticky, so I have to at least rinse off. I twist the shower on and jump in while it’s still cold, gasping as I scrub the essentials with a bar of soap, and then hop out and dry off, twisting my hair into a messy bun while ripping my clean clothes out of my bag.
I glance at Ryder, who has taken my place in the shower. “No, you don’t understand,” I tell him. “I’ve never been late picking him up—Paul is almost always late, and it’s been a constant problem for us in our co-parenting. If I’m late, I’ll never hear the end of it. It’ll be basically giving him free rein to be late as much as he wants.”
Ryder spends no more time in the shower than I do, cleaning off, rinsing, and jumping out, and he’s finished getting dressed before I am. “Well, that’s bullshit,” he says.
I laugh bitterly. “Yeah, but that’s Paul.”
He frowns at me. “Laurel, I’m taking you to get Nate. It’ll save time.”
I shove my feet into the flats. “Um…thanks, but no. Just drop me off at home.”
“You’ll be even later, in that case.” He shrugs. “I really don’t mind, and I’ve got nothing else going on today. Plus, it means more time with you.”
