Page 138 of One Baby Daddy
“I want you to touch me, anywhere you want, just touch me.”
“Why?”
Scooting closer so now there is no room to retreat, he says, “I want to show you how unbelievably sexy you are to me. Despite what you might think, you’re drop-dead gorgeous, Adalyn, and the fact that you’re carrying my baby just heightens the need I have for you. So touch me. Let me show you.”
Trepidation steels my nerves, my hand shakes, and I’m unsure if I should touch him. This was not in the plans—or at least not in my plans—to be this close, to be sucked into the sensation of having him near me again.
Touch him. It seems like such a simple request, but behind the simplicity is a myriad of emotions waiting to consume me.
One touch. I know that’s all it will take to open up the floodgate of memories I shared with this man. Am I willing to risk the onslaught of emotion to follow?
“Touch me,” he repeats, his voice rumbling over me like a cloak of comfort, reverberating up my spine, sending my hand forward to his forearm.
Tentatively, with the pads of my fingers, I run them over the well-defined sinew of his thick forearm. The muscles beneath me flick and flutter to my touch, dancing beneath my hand.
Peering into Hayden’s heavy-lidded eyes, I’m taken back to a moment in the hotel room in New York City, my head buried between his thighs. My mouth on his cock, my tongue lapping at the head, his eyes fluttering shut, his teeth pulling on his bottom lip, his corded neck straining with every single lap.
Heat consumes me. A wave of lava erupting over my skin, the sound of his grumbly moans echoing through my memory.
“Do you feel that, Adalyn? Goosebumps spread over my skin, the heat of your touch warming me immediately? A light touch does that to me, having you near me sends my body into a frenzy, so the next time you try to put yourself down again, think of this moment. Because you might not feel like yourself, but to me, you’re more beautiful than ever.”
Clearing his throat as my fingers continue to travel along his arm, he scoots back on the couch and pulls on the chocolate strands of his hair. “Uh, I’m going to pack some of these boxes up. I’ll meet you in the kitchen. I have something planned for us.”
Standing from the couch, he starts gathering boxes, and I finally open my mouth. “How many women have you been with?” I don’t know why I ask the question, and frankly I don’t think I want to know, but for some self-loathing reason, I’m curious.
Not looking at me, he says, “Doesn’t matter. There’s only been one woman I’ve ever truly cared about.” Eyeing me with a look I can only describe as loving, he adds, “And she’s sitting on my couch, driving me fucking nuts with the way she keeps wetting her lips.”
My tongue on route to wet my bottom lip, I suck it back into my mouth, causing Hayden to chuckle to himself and retreat to the kitchen, his backside flexing with every step.
I might be in trouble.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ADALYN
“That’s not how you whisk eggs. You’re just stirring them.”
I look down at the three still intact eggs, their yolks barely breaking. “No, look they’re starting to break apart.” I point into the bowl.
“At that pace, we’re going to be eating cake at midnight. I’ll show you how it’s done.” From behind, Hayden traps my body against the counter, his arms circling around me. Taking my hand in his along with the fork, he whisks the eggs sharply in the bowl, beating the poor things to death. Lips next to my ear, he says, “See, like this. Like you’re whipping them.”
Whipping.
Why does that word make me want to do naughty things? Hell, watching his forearm whisk the eggs makes me want to do naughty things. Look at how his wrist rotates incredibly fast, never letting up. And his fingers, long and strong, telling the fork exactly what to do, beating the eggs into submission.
Submission.
Whipping.
Forearms.
Wrists.
Oh Christ, I need some water.
Pregnancy hormones are in overdrive tonight. It doesn’t help that Hayden is wandering around his apartment without socks on. Yes, he’s barefoot in jeans and a white T-shirt, looking casually handsome, his large feet padding across the floor.
They’re feet, uncovered man feet, and from the mere sight of them I can feel a dull throb start in the base of my stomach.
