Page 139 of One Baby Daddy
We are talking overactive hormones here. Never in my life have I lusted over feet, but by golly do I want to play with his.
Don’t worry. I’m quite aware something is wrong with me.
“Adalyn, the milk.”
“Huh?” I look up, my hand whisking in the air, carrying the motion on after Hayden has already stepped away and started mixing all the ingredients together.
“The milk, hand me the milk.”
“Oh yeah, the milk. Gotcha.” I give his side a playful punch that makes him chuckle, his brow drawn close together, confusion of my actions written all over his face. Don’t worry, buddy, I’m just as confused as you are.
Milk already measured out, I give him the glass Pyrex cup and lean against the counter, my hip hitting the hard edge. Hayden’s talking, but his words aren’t registering. Instead, my mind is focused on the way his biceps swell with each pass of the mixing spoon in the bowl. Up and down, up and down, testing the elasticity of the cotton shirt he’s wearing. Is it going to snap? It looks like it.
Come on.
Snap.
Snap, you little cotton—
“Hey, where are you right now?” Hayden tilts my chin up, forcing my eyes away from his cannon of an arm.
“Sorry, just thinking about things.” Not things I plan on sharing. Nodding toward the mix, I say, “What does it taste like?” When Hayden said he wanted to bake a cake with me, I inwardly softened, the wall around my heart being broken down one brick at a time.
“Want to taste it?”
I nod vigorously. I reach for the bowl, but he swats my hand away only to stick his finger in the bowl and offer me a taste.
Holding his finger in front of me, he waits for me to taste the chocolate flavor about to drip off the end. Not feeling shy about licking his finger, I lean forward and stick my tongue out, flicking up the dripping of batter about to fall. Keeping my gaze trained on his, I notice how his pupils grow, his eyes narrow, and then I open my mouth and slip his finger inside. Looking up at him, I allow my lips to encircle his finger while my tongue works its way around his finger, lapping up the chocolate.
His sharp stare stays on me when I ever so slowly bring my teeth down on his finger, lightly dragging them to the tip along with my lips. When my mouth pops off, I lick around my lips and smile at him.
For a moment, we stand there, staring at each other, our eyes locked, our bodies breathing together in time, heavy and deep, our chests rising and falling.
“Tell me no.” He lets go of the bowl and takes a step toward me.
Eyes wide, delicious chocolate on my tongue, my body humming for one touch, one taste, my lips stay sealed.
Taking another step forward, closing me in against the counter, he repeats himself, gripping my cheek. “Tell me no.”
I know I should. I set ground rules. I told him we were over. I said we were just going to be friends,but for the life of me, I can’t get myself to tell him no.
I can’t utter the words. Instead, my hand grips one of the belt loops of his pants and pulls him in the last inch. Growling like a caveman, he bends at the waist and effortlessly scoops me into his arms only to usher me past the kitchen, living room, and down a hallway. With a push of his foot, he opens the door to his bedroom. The ten-foot ceilings give the room a heavenly feel along with the all-white bedding and giant California king.
Just when I think he’s about to toss me in the bed, he gives it a second thought and gently sets me down, going down to his knees in front of me. Reaching behind him, he grips the back of his shirt and pulls it forward over his head revealing his expertly chiseled body.
God, how could I forget what he looks like without a shirt? This image should be burned in my mind, on constant replay, like a screensaver on my phone, always there.
Lifting my shirt, he reveals the spandex of my jeans, completely horrifying me. I scoot away, pushing my shirt down. God, it’s like he just revealed my Spanx without any warning.
“Don’t scoot away from me.” He pulls on my legs, bringing me closer to him.
“Don’t look at my pregnancy wear. Close your eyes. You should never see elastic where there should be zippers and buttons.”
Chuckling, he doesn’t listen to me. No, he lifts my shirt and pulls down on the elastic of my very stretchy jeans, revealing my little baby bump. Sitting back on his heels, his hand washes over his face, the look of sincere wonder reflected in his beautiful eyes.
Sitting up, he leans on his elbows, his arms straddling either side of me, and he brings his lips gently to my stomach where he kisses my bump. Peering at me, tears filling his eyes, he conveys with his awe-inspired look how happy he is.
Unable to control my emotions, my eyes dampen as well, watching him kiss me from the top of my belly to the bottom, his fingers lightly caressing the sides.
