One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(34)

Fuck.

Another shift on my lap, but this time, her hips continue to slowly move back and forth.

A low hiss escapes my lips.

Every part of me hardens, from my grip on her hips, encouraging her rocking, to the muscles in my chest where she’s stroking my pecs, to my quickly growing cock.

“What else, Hayden?”

I’m blanking. What else is good about hockey?

“In hockey, there’s . . .” Shit, her hands feels so good. “In hockey . . .”

What’s good about Adalyn? The way her breasts sway with her movements, the way her nipples are so impossibly hard right now, and how she lightly bites on her bottom lip while she rocks above me.

“Uh . . . nachos,” I mumble. “We have nachos.”

“There are nachos in football.”

“But these nachos . . .” She grinds on me. “Fuck . . . these nachos are . . . so good. Fuck, that’s so good.”

My head falls to the back of her couch, my eyes shut, Adalyn glides over me, her pace picking up now. Slipping her hands inside my shirt, she scrapes her fingers along my nipples and I swear to God, I nearly come apart.

“Adalyn.”

“Hmm?”

“You feel . . . goddamn, you feel . . .”

“What?” Her head is bent forward now, her mouth near my ear. “How do I feel?”

“Fucking perfect,” I hiss when she grinds down harder.

“Good.” She nips my earlobe and then lifts off me in one swift movement, taking her warmth, her touch, her seductive ways with her.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I ask, watching her walk into the house.

“It’s getting late. You should probably get going.”

“Going?” My eyebrows shoot up. Pocketing my loose phone, I stand—painfully—my cock scraping along the crotch of my jeans. “What happened to staying over?”

Like a needy puppy dog, I follow her into her house and shut the screen door. She’s in the kitchen fiddling with dishes when I come up behind her, pressing my front to her back, my hands to her hips, my mouth hovering near her ear.

“Are you playing hard to get now?”

“It’s working, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” I run my nose along the soft cartilage of her ear, down to her neck. Clamping her hands over mine, I feel her tense when I meander my perusal back up to her ear. “Do you really want me to go?”

“You know I don’t.” Spinning in my grasp, she places her hands on my chest as I lift her to sit on her counter, reminding me of a position we were in not so long ago. “Is this the moment you’ve been looking for?” Her voice is meek with a hint of desperation, like she’s been waiting all her life for this one kiss, for my lips to be pressed against hers.

And for one of the first times in my life, I’m scared. I’m scared of what this kiss might do to me, of how it will change me as a man, because Adalyn isn’t just any girl. She could be THE girl for any lucky son of a bitch.

No doubt in my mind she’s someone you only come across once in a lifetime, and fuck if I’m not nervous to take that next step, to see if my gut reaction is right, that this girl is my game changer.

And I know kissing her will not just be our mouths connecting. It will be an unearthly experience. From how responsive she’s been already with her soft mews and her apprehensive but also mostly confident touches. She’s going to rock my fucking world and the question is . . . am I ready for it?

Because once I press my mouth against hers, once I conquer that first taste, it’s going to be a steady downward spiral from there, of me losing any ability of staying away from her.

It’s hard to stay away now.

It’s hard to keep my hands off her now.

It’s hard to not want to ask her every single question that comes to mind, because all I want is to know her better, to know everything about her.

And it’s only been a few encounters.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath.

Standing in front of me, is a brand-new, unwritten page, a chapter waiting to begin, and I have to decide if I am ready to fill in the blank.

I am.

Stepping deeper between her legs, I slide my hands up her arms, reveling in the smooth feel of her skin, loving how goosebumps erupt from the rub of my worn hands. Cupping her neck, one hand gently twisting in her hair, I pull her head back an inch, parting her lips for mine. On an audible gasp, her eyes widen for a brief moment before softening when I bring my mouth a whisper from hers.

I pause.

Eyes locked, her hands gliding up my arms, anchoring her in place, our breaths mingling, her lashes beat, up and down, up and down.

Chests rise and fall in tandem.

The press of my thumb against her pulse.

Beat after rapid beat.

Holding my breath, my skin prickling with awareness, with the knowledge this is fucking it, I cut the distance between us and press my lips against hers. On a sigh, her body melts into mine, our mouths molding together.

Tentative at first, we explore, our lips light, our mouths not quite nipping, but not fusing together either.

We probe, we search, we delve into each other.

Her hands to my face.

My fingers tangling in her wavy brown curls.

Mouths open.

A gasp.

A moan.