The Single Dad (The Dalton Family #3)(19)

He took my coffee again, this time setting it by his phone, and he caged me in his arms, moving me flat on his bed so he could climb on top of me.

I was completely full of Ford.

The heat of his skin, the citrus tones of his cologne. The scratchiness of his beard as he dragged it across me.

Everything tickled.

And fluttered.

“Do you know how sexy you look in my shirt?” He was kissing around the collar, and my head moved from side to side to give him more access. “How I want nothing more than to rip it off you and fucking devour you again.”

But he couldn’t.

Because of Everly.

I could accept that.

He hovered over my face, and I held his cheek and said, “I can feel …”

He was naked, his hard-on pressing against the button-down, the thin material the only thing separating us.

“Last night was amazing,” I continued.

His eyes closed, and he kissed my cheek. “I had a great time too.” He said nothing for a few seconds and then, “I’d like to see you again.”

A tingle erupted between my legs. “You would?”

His lips were only inches from mine. “Why are you questioning that?” He shifted to my neck, tasting me, like he was discovering new skin.

“It just sounded like you don’t date much, so … I don’t know. I just assumed.”

“I don’t, but it sounded like you understood my circumstances.”

I nodded. “That’s true.”

He returned to that same spot on my neck. Kissing. Caressing. “Then, yes, I most definitely would like to see you again.”

He was holding himself up with his arms, and I skimmed them, feeling the muscles bulge on each side. “Give me your phone. I’ll save my number.”

He unlocked the screen and handed it to me, and I went into his Contacts and added my information.

Rather than setting a date, this felt like the option that put the least amount of pressure on him.

Still, the thought of him calling sent that tingle afire, and the thought of him not calling made my heart start to ache.

I set his phone down and wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him against me. My nose went into his hair, smelling, my mind memorizing.

Just in case.

And once a few beats passed, I respected his wishes and whispered, “Let’s go.”

He gave me a quick kiss, his eyes holding mine as our mouths parted, and we climbed out of bed. He went into his closet, and I tossed his button-down on the bench in front of his bed and worked the tight dress up my body.

When he walked out, he was in a pair of gray sweatpants, a T-shirt, a baseball hat, and sneakers.

If he moved just right, the sweatpants showed the outline of his crown.

I almost felt guilty for looking.

But I couldn’t help myself.

Good God.

He was so incredibly sexy.

“Are you ready …” He shook his head as his voice died out, his eyes consuming me. “Damn it, it fucking pains me to ask you that.”

I grabbed my coffee from the nightstand and gulped down a few sips. “Ready.”

On the way out, I slipped on my heels and picked up my clutch from the floor and then followed him into the living room.

“Morning, Hannah,” he said as we passed the counter where she was still sitting. “Was Eve good last night?”

“A little whiny when it was time to go to bed. She wanted to play, take another bath, have a popcorn fight in your bed—you know, all the excuses.” There was a container sitting on one of her books, and she handed it to me. “Aside from that, she was perfect.”

Inside the Tupperware was cookies. Ones that looked homemade.

That would explain what I’d smelled last night in Ford’s kitchen.

“Have one,” Hannah urged.

I grabbed two and moaned behind my hand as I chewed. “Wow. This is excellent.”

“Take another. I made three dozen, so there’s plenty.”

“Two is more than enough. Thank you.” As I tried to taste the ingredient that she’d used to make the dough extra rich and fluffy, I held the container toward Ford.

He shook his head, and he said to Hannah, “I’m going to take Sydney home. I should be back before Eve wakes up, and then you can bounce.”

“Works for me,” Hannah replied.

I handed the Tupperware back to Hannah, and as Ford and I were walking past the fridge, I heard, “Daaaddy!”

“Fuck,” Ford whispered, freezing mid-step.

We turned at the same time, seeing his daughter bouncing down the steps that wrapped around the living room.

“Daaaddy, is it pancake time?”

He glanced at me, and I instantly saw the worry on his face.

I didn’t know what to do.

Where to go.

What to even say.

But as I looked toward the staircase, there was a flash of pink descending so fast, curls like loose springs on top of her head, that I knew it was too late to try and hide.

The second she hit the bottom landing, she came running for her father.

My heart clenched as he picked her up in his arms, hugging her against him.

“Good morning, my baby girl.” He rubbed circles across her back, her body so tiny against Ford’s tall, muscular frame. “How did you sleep?”