Page 75 of Nailed (Dad Bod Contracting 3)
“I wasn’t being…it wasn’t hyperbole,” I say. “I know this is jumping into things fast, but…I really do want to wake up with you like this every single morning.”
“Say that again when we’re not both still shaking from having just come together.”
“I don’t need to.”
He’s still inside me, and he finally pulls away. “Laurel, I—”
I look at him, thinking he’s going to tell me it’s too much too fast. “Ryder, you don’t have to—”
He palms my face. “Waking up with you every morning sounds like heaven.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Let me clean you up.”
He grabs the washcloth, rinses it with hot water, squeezes it out, and then cleans me with it, each touch gentle and loving.
I pull him down to the bed. “Stay here.”
He frowns. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to make you breakfast.”
He grins, and grabs me, hauls me down, kissing me stupid. “Can I make one request?”
I squirm out of his hold. “Anything, love.”
“Do it wearing nothing but my shirt?”
I take his T-shirt and shrug into it—it’s a plain black V-neck, and it’s big enough that it hangs to mid-thigh; the V-neck scoops low, showing off my cleavage. I’m not sure I’ve ever in my life felt sexier, more beautiful, and more desired.
“Ta-da!” I say, doing a little dance for him. “How’s this?”
“Fucking spectacular.”
I grin. “Take a shower. I’ll make coffee and breakfast, and then after Nate’s on the bus, maybe you can help me get clean.”
He growls, a feline, rolling-R growl that’s at once comedic and lascivious. “I really, really, really love the way you think, Laurel Madison.”
I sashay out of the bedroom, swaying my butt for him; I make a quick stop in the other bathroom to give myself a little extra cleaning—because damn, the man made a serious mess of me, and then head into the kitchen. I hear the shower going a few seconds later, as I grind beans for coffee.
“Mom?” Nate’s voice, sleepy and confused.
I kiss him on the forehead as he slumps into a chair at the table. “Hi, honey. Sleep well?”
“Uh-huh,” he mumbles. His eyes take in my shirt, and then flick toward my room, where the shower can be heard. “Ryder’s here?”
I nod. “Yes, he is.”
“He stayed the night?”
I look at Nate. “Yes.” I risk a hesitant smile. “Is that okay?”
Nate nods. “Yeah. I like him, and I think he’s in love with you.”
“I think so too, buddy,” I say, unable to hide my joy.
Nate grins. “Are you in love with him back?”
I nod. “Yeah.” I ruffle Nate’s hair. “Is that okay with you?”
He nods again. “I’m glad.”
“You are?”
“Sure. I want you to be happy, and you and Ryder being in love makes you happy.”
I kiss him again, and he wiggles away. “I love you, Nate. You know that no matter what happens, that will never, ever change, right?”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Duh. You’re my mom.”
I laugh. “Exactly!”
I make eggs and toast, and Ryder comes out in his jeans, no shirt, barefoot, his hair wet and slicked back, beard beaded with water droplets. I only just suppress a moan of appreciation at the raw and rugged sexiness that is Ryder McCann—and my delirious happiness at him being in my home like this.
It feels pretty much perfect, Ryder and Nate and I sitting at my little kitchen table, eating, talking, joking. Nate finishes his breakfast and goes to brush his teeth and get dressed for school. Ryder starts cleaning up from breakfast as I check Nate’s backpack, make sure he finished his homework, and then put together a quick cold lunch for him. Nate is pestering Ryder about going to play paintball, and Ryder is ducking his questions, which I realize is because Ryder has plans that he doesn’t want to spoil by telling Nate.
And then the doorbell rings.
I’m puzzled for a second, and then dread rockets through me.
No, no, no.
Not now. Not today.
Half of me wants to tell Ryder to hide in my room just so I don’t have to deal with the drama, and the other half wants me to ask Ryder to answer the door for me.
Ryder senses something. “Laurel?”
I close my eyes and sigh. “No,” I moan. “Please no, not today—not like this.”
“Want me to answer it?” Ryder asks.
I shake my head. “No, I’ll handle it.”
“Want me to go into your room? Give you privacy?”
“I’m not hiding you, or us.” I stand up and go to the door, summoning every last ounce of inner strength that I have.
I’m still naked except for Ryder’s T-shirt.
The doorbell ding-dongs again. “Laurel?” Paul’s voice. He’s angry. There’s a note in his voice that I recognize, and I don’t like it. “Whose truck is that?”
I open the door a sliver, just enough that I can slide my head through. “What do you want, Paul?”
He’s disheveled. His clothes show signs of having been worn for several days. He’s unshaven, red-eyed. Dark circles rim his eyes. A snarl curls his upper lip.
