Page 69 of Nailed (Dad Bod Contracting 3)
He just arches an eyebrow. “Okay?”
“The gnome’s name is Mr. Duckington the Fourth,” I tell him, “and he has a secret.”
Ryder stops what he’s doing and focuses on the camera. “Oh? Do I get to know what Mr. Duckington the Fourth’s secret is?”
I grin. “Mr. Duckington the Fourth is wearing a red hat. If you take his hat off, there’s a spare key for my house inside his head.”
He lets out a slow breath. “I see. And are you officially inviting me to use your secret key to let myself in?”
I nod, feeling a little shy about the next part. “Do you remember our conversation about you waking me up in a really…ummm…exciting way?”
He groans a sigh. “Fuck yes, Laurel. I remember very, very clearly.”
“I’m gonna get Nate to bed, and I’m going to go to bed myself pretty soon after he’s in bed.” I meet his eyes via the phone screen. “Nate could sleep through the Apocalypse, so don’t worry about tiptoeing around.”
“You’re sure about this?”
I nod, gnawing on my lip again. “Yes, Ryder. I’m absolutely certain I want you to come over tonight.”
“Even if it’s super late, like after midnight?”
“Yes.”
His grin widens, and he rakes his hand through his hair. “Do you sleep naked, Laurel?”
I shrug. “Not usually. But I will tonight.”
“I think I’m about to finish this job in record time.”
I caress my breasts with my free hand, and I enjoy the agonized desire on Ryder’s face. “Don’t rush so you make mistakes. I’ll be here waiting for you whenever you get done, okay?”
“Fucking hell, Laurel. What did I ever do to deserve you?”
“I keep asking myself the same question about you.”
“I’ll see you as soon as humanly possible.”
“Okay.” I give him a look that drips with eager, seductive lust. “And Ryder?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I hope you’re…hungry.”
He laughs, but it’s a wicked sound, more of a growl than anything. “Laurel, my sweet, sexy darling, I am absolutely ravenous. I plan on feasting.”
I shiver. “I can’t wait.”
He blows me a kiss, and I blow him one back, and then we end the call; I drop the phone to the bed beside me, grinning ear to ear. I put a pillow over my face and muffle a scream of excitement, kicking my feet.
I hear a knock on my bedroom door, then. “Mom? I need your help with my homework.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there!” I call.
I put my shirt back on sans bra, and go out to help Nate with his homework. When he’s done, we lounge on the couch together and watch our favorite reality show, about a search for hidden treasure on a remote Canadian island. After two episodes of that, I send Nate to bed. While he’s falling asleep, I clean the kitchen—do the dishes, wipe the counters, sweep the floor, then pick up around the living room and make sure everything is neat and tidy.
Solely for my own peace of mind, of course.
Ha, right. I’m totally spit-shining my house for Ryder.
I start on my room—which, to be honest, needed a bit of work anyway. There’s a bunch of dirty clothes to put in the hamper, clean clothes that have been languishing in the laundry basket for weeks that I finally put away. I change the linens on my bed, putting clean flannel sheets on. Dust the top of my dresser, hang my collection of frequent rotation bras on a hanger in my closet instead of their usual place on my bathroom doorknob.
There—clean and tidy.
There’s something missing, though.
I figure it out, and a smile fixes itself on my face.
I fish my bag of tea lights from under the kitchen sink and position them liberally around my room—on the dresser and side table, and in the bathroom, and then light them all. Then, I rip the heads off of a few roses and sprinkle petals on my bedspread, on the side table, on the bathroom counter and in the sink, and all over the floor in a trail from the bedroom door up to my bed.
My bedroom is now a candlelit sanctuary of romance.
I strip naked and climb into bed…and completely fail to fall asleep.
After an hour of lying there awake, I take my iPad from its drawer and binge on a few episodes of my guilty pleasure: Real Housewives. Finally, I feel myself fading, so I turn the iPad off and put it away.
I drift off, daydreaming of Ryder.
Chapter 13
Wh—
What?
Where am I?
Who am I?
Oh…ohhhh god. What’s going on?
Why do I tingle all over? Why is my core aching? Why is my belly trembling? Why are my thighs quaking?
Something…something is touching me. Wet, firm, slithery, insistent. Flicking at my clit. Lapping at my seam.
Now there’s a presence inside me, not enough to fill me or stretch me, just enough to slide between my lips and curl inside me just so, scraping and massaging against that elusive magical place deep inside me.
