One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(23)

Fuck, she’s asleep—caressing me—and it’s killing me.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I take in a deep breath, willing my body to relax, but when Adalyn’s finger grazes the tip of my cock, my eyes shoot open and my balls tighten so goddamn hard that I’m scooting out from under Adalyn before I can stop myself.

Dick hard as a rock, I shuffle to the bathroom, turn on the shower, and keep the bathroom door partly open as the water starts to warm up. From the mirror, I can see Adalyn plain as day. Eyes still shut, she flips to the side and curls into her pillow, the sheets covering that pert ass of hers.

Stripping out of my boxer briefs, I hop in the shower, grab some soap, lather up, and lean against the tile of the wall as I start to work the soap up and down my hardened length.

Hissing between my teeth, I grip the back of my head, my elbow pressing against the cold tile, my legs feeling wobbly. I’m already there, a few seconds from coming, just from some innocent touches, just from the memory of her scent floating past me, of the way her hair felt against my bare chest.

Up and down.

Up and down.

“Fuck,” I grunt, squeezing my eyes shut, biting down on my lower lip.

Her lips, those fuckable, kissable, sexy-as-sin lips.

Up . . . and . . . down.

“God . . . shit.” My head falls to the tile, my hand relentless on my cock, my forearm burning from the erratic motion. My abs tighten, a euphoric feeling working its way up from my toes to my gut, to my balls.

Up.

Down.

Up . . .

“Goddamn it,” I press my head harder into the tile, trying to keep my groans together, the head of my cock ready to burst.

Her smile.

Her laugh.

Her caress.

Those long legs.

That . . . ass.

Inexplicably groaning, my hand pulls on my cock as my orgasm takes over, my vision tunneling, my legs shaking, my grip squeezing so goddamn tight I’m almost positive I’m about to black out.

My hand stilling, my cock throbs in my palm, my come pouring out of me until I don’t think I have any left. Spent and partially satisfied, I take a deep breath, the steam of the shower opening my lungs, rejuvenating me.

I might just be able to get through this morning without jumping Adalyn unexpectedly. Because I want to fucking jump her. God, how I want her.

Quickly, I soap up my body, wash my hair and face, then turn off the shower. Peeking past the shower door, I glance into the bedroom to find Adalyn still sleeping. Man, she must have been really tired. That or she’s the heaviest sleeper I know.

I towel off, put on a pair of Nike shorts, and head into the bedroom, droplets of water careening from my hair, down my chest. I make sure one last time she’s fully asleep, snag my phone, and walk to the kitchen.

What should I make for breakfast?

I rub my hands together and take a look at the time. Eight o’clock. Wow, I never sleep in this late. I must have been extremely comfortable sleeping with Adalyn.

Well, that was until she started skimming her fingers over my cock.

Shaking those thoughts out of my head, not wanting to get excited again, I pick up a box of waffle mix from the pantry and scan the ingredients. Just add water, that’s easy.

While I’m searching for a waffle maker, my phone rings in my pocket. I answer without even looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hey, man. What are you up to today?” Racer, shit.

“Hey Racer, uh . . . not much. Just making some breakfast.”

Where the fuck is the waffle maker? Ah, there it is.

“Breakfast? Dude, it’s eight.”

“I’m aware. I slept in. I’m allowed to do that when it’s the off-season, you know.”

Racer tsks into the phone. “Not if you’re dedicated to being the best. The best wake up at five every morning for an early morning workout.”

“Shut the fuck up.” I laugh into the phone. “What do you want?” I plug the waffle iron into an outlet, set the temperature to medium to be safe, and start stirring the mix together with water. I know I have some strawberries in the fridge I can cut up and put on top of the waffle, making me look like a goddamn professional. My mom would be proud.

“I was hoping you might be available for some hard labor later tonight.”

“Hard labor? Why would I want to do that?”

“Because I need your help desperately, and I would have to pay anyone else, but I know out of the goodness of your heart, you would help me for free, because you’re such a good guy.”

“Really trying to pull at the heartstrings, aren’t you?” I spray the waffle maker with some PAM, and pour half a cup of batter onto the hot irons.

“Never.” He pauses. “Did I ever tell you you’re my best friend?”

Rolling my eyes, I turn on the toaster oven and set it to warm so I can store the waffles in some heat when they’re done cooking. “You must be really desperate if you’re willing to throw down the best-friend card.”

“I can offer you some good tunes, an artfully crafted peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner, and some good old-fashioned jokes.”

“Damn, how could I ever turn down a night like that?”

“I know, I offer up a good bargain, don’t I?”

“Practically irresistible.”