One Baby Daddy

by Meghan Quinn

  “Hockey is off the table. Pretend hockey doesn’t even exist in this scenario.”

  “That’s a sad fucking scenario.” He chuckles but then grows serious again. He scratches the side of his jaw, his five o’clock shadow disrupting the peaceful night air. “I guess if hockey wasn’t an option on any accord, I would probably have gone to culinary school and hopefully own a restaurant somewhere in the city.”

  “In the city?”

  He winks. “Aim big, baby, never settle.”

  “Apparently.”

  “What about you, if you weren’t a nurse, what would you be?”

  “Is hockey an option in my scenario?”

  He arches his eyebrow in question. “Uh, sure.”

  “Perfect.” Casually I pick a piece of lint off my pants. “If I wasn’t a nurse then I would totally be a hockey groupie, because I’m liking this whole hockey player persona. Very sexy.”

  A drawn-out grin plays on his lips. With our connected hands, he pulls me closer until I’m practically sitting on his lap. Talking quietly, his forehead pressed against mine, he says, “Don’t let me fool you, I’m the exception. All other hockey players are massive dicks. You got lucky with me.”

  Chuckling, I say, “Seems like you’re trying to distract me from finding myself another piece of man muscle on skates.”

  His nose gently passes over mine as he talks low. So deep, so seductive. “Is it working?”

  Oh God . . . is it working.

  Pressed up against Hayden’s chest, his arm wrapped around me, his fingers playing with my hair, I toy with the buttons on his shirt as we look into the dark abyss in front of us. I have no clue what time it is, but I can feel my eyes starting to get heavy, and yet, I haven’t made a move to leave.

  I’m too comfortable.

  I’m too warm under this fleece blanket with Hayden.

  I want to get to know him even more.

  I want more time with him.

  “What was Racer like growing up?” I ask, holding back the yawn that wants to escape.

  “Racer?” Hayden chuckles. “Can you guess what he was like?”

  “Hmm . . . a total tool?”

  “Pretty much, but it was oddly okay in our group of friends. We knew he was the jokester, the one who pulled pranks, but he was also very sensitive, so we didn’t return a lot of his jabs. We let him have his fun.”

  “He is sensitive, isn’t he?”

  “Very, and now that he’s older, he’s very sensitive to people around him, compassionate and understanding when he needs to be. He can read a situation well and knows when he needs to stop joking around and be the incredible friend he is.”

  “Mmm,” I hum in agreement. “That’s very true. He was there for me when everything with Logan went down.”

  “He was?”

  I nod against Hayden’s chest, his arm growing tighter around me. “Racer is not a fan of Logan, but then again, he doesn’t know him like I do, or like Emma does. He’s a good guy, and he’s been there for both of us from the very beginning.”

  Hayden grows quiet, and I’m sure Logan isn’t one of his favorite topics, especially after the way he reacted when I told him what happened between us.

  Not wanting there to be unnecessary beef between Hayden and Logan, I add, “He really is a good guy. I think you guys would actually get along.”

  “Doubt it,” Hayden mutters under his breath.

  Lifting off his chest, my hand against his pecs propping me up, I look Hayden in the eyes. Instead of the usual jovial expression he wears, his brow is creased, his jaw hard and set in stone, and his eyes are cast forward.

  “You really don’t like him, do you?”

  “I don’t. He treated you like shit during a moment that needed more sensitivity. Doesn’t seem like a guy I would get along with.”

  “It was an awkward moment. I’m sure he handled it the best he knew how to.”

  Hayden shakes his head and lowers me to his chest. “There are about ten other ways I can think of off the top of my head on how he could of handled that situation. He didn’t have to be a dick to you and that’s what he was. The dude isn’t cool in my book, not sure he’ll ever be.”

  Taking a small breath, I say, “He’s still my friend.”

  Heavily sighing, Hayden presses a kiss against my head but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he rocks us back and forth, letting the night we’ve shared speak for itself. And it’s in this moment I appreciate why he and Racer are close. Why he and Racer share their dislike of Logan. They’re loyal. One hundred percent loyal toward those they consider theirs. Even in the small amount of time I’ve known Hayden, I can see if you are considered a friend, that invitation never goes away. And that’s possibly more dangerous to my heart than all other amazing attributes thrown together. That’s what I learned from my family. Loyalty and love go hand in hand.

  Chapter Seven

  HAYDEN

  I keep my mouth shut because there is no use talking to Adalyn about Logan. She knows what he did, she knows deep down the kind of coward he is; I don’t have to point that out. I would rather spend the rest of the evening with this woman snuggled into my side, the scent of her sweet shampoo slowly eating me alive, and her small hand playing with the buttons of my shirt.

  No need to dwell on someone who has nothing to do with us.

  Yes . . . us.

  There is no doubt in my mind we are becoming an us, at least I’m hoping we are becoming an us, because with every touch and conversation we share, I’m becoming more and more addicted to this woman.

  It isn’t only her beauty that has captured me—those golden eyes and luscious lips. It’s the way she smiles so innocently when her eyes light up with sin, or the way she beautifully cares for others but easily keeps me on my toes with her wit.

  Racer was right to try to protect Adalyn from me because right now, I feel like a wolf, stalking his prey.

  Back and forth, back and forth we rock, our breath mixing together, falling in rhythm. Adalyn’s fingers start to slow, her body pressing heavier into mine.

  “Hey,” I whisper to see if she’s awake.

  No response.

  “Adalyn.” I press a kiss against her forehead.

  “Mmm . . .”

  “Are you sleeping?”

  “Maybe,” she grumbles.

  Knowing how hard she works and how long her shifts are, I don’t think twice when I scoop her into my arms and take her inside the house. Her head lulls into my chest. No doubt the wine and long hours conked her out.

  I have three options here: I can drive her back to her place and help her get into bed, I can walk her into the guest room and tuck her in, or . . . I can take her to my room and spend the rest of the night wrapped around her lithe body, running my hand over her soft skin, smelling her delicious lavender scent.

  I’m a good guy, but I also have my selfish moments and spending the night wrapped around Adalyn is going to be one hell of a selfish moment I’ll capitalize on.

  Turning the lights off, not worrying about the wine glasses outside, I do a quick lockup and carry Adalyn to the back of the house where I lay her on the bed. As I remove her shoes, her eyes flutter open, lazy and sexy, and she asks, “What’s going on?”

  “Just getting you ready for bed.”

  Instead of putting up a fight like I thought she would, she nods and lays her head back down. Chuckling, I finish up with her shoes and head to the bathroom where I brush my teeth, shuck my jeans and shirt, and grab a cup of water and toothbrush for Adalyn.

  She’s half awake when I offer her the toothbrush, running through the motions of brushing her teeth. But to her credit, she doesn’t forget to brush her tongue. She’s high-functioning when practically sleeping, her eyes closed the entire time.

  When I return from dropping off the spare toothbrush I had, I find her struggling with her jeans, the zipper giving her a run for her money. Okay, not as high-functioning as I thought.

  “Do you want y
our pants off?”

  “Mmm,” she answers with a sleepy nod.

  “Okay.” I assess the situation and wonder how I’m going to make this happen when she flops to her back, arms spread, giving me easy access to the button and zipper. “Well, that’s one way to do it.”

  Without trouble, I undo her pants and ease them down her legs, her tight black shirt painted onto her stomach, a few inches higher than the waistline of her . . .

  Oh fuck.

  She’s wearing a thong.

  For the love of God, don’t flip over. Please don’t flip over.

  Turning my back to her, I fold her jeans and place them on the bench at the foot of the bed and work my way to my side of the bed. She’s going to be covered in blankets. This brilliant idea is not going to turn into a painful one. I know it won’t.

  I sit on my side of the bed, plug my phone into its charger, take a deep breath, and turn to find Adalyn curled up in a ball, her backside to me, her black lace thong burning a hole straight into my soul.

  Her ass . . .

  Fuck.

  Smooth, round, begging for my hands.

  No, you’re not going to feel up a woman who’s passed out in your bed. Get ahold of yourself.

  I glance at her ass one more time and inwardly grown; there goes the snuggling I had planned. There is no way I’m going to press against her when I have a fucking growing hard-on in my boxer briefs. That just spells out creeper.

  Grumbling to myself, I flip off the light and turn away from Adalyn. I try to erase the images of her ass that’s only a foot away from my memory.

  This is going to be one long fucking night.

  Have you ever had a dream that felt so real? Like it was actually happening in real life?

  That’s what is happening to me right now.

  I’m in some kind of dream haze where my mind is making everything feel so damn real it actually feels like Adalyn is touching me.

  Touching me all over.

  Her small, thin fingers running under my pecs, scraping my nipples with her fingernails, pressing her palm against my thick chest.

  Her nails scraping down my abs, one divot at a time, making me so damn hard that I can feel a sweat break out over my skin.

  Her fingers linger back to my chest where they play with my nipple, causing a groan to erupt from my throat.

  Her feather-soft hair tickles my chin, her scent so strong, it feels so real.

  Scanning, scraping, touching, exploring, her fingers move up and down my torso, my dick growing harder with every touch until her fingers play with the edge of my waistband, my cock inching to be released.

  My hips thrust up, begging, pleading, needing to be satisfied.

  Fingernails scrape along the waistband, dipping in right near my cock. So close, so goddamn close.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, the sound loud on my ears.

  Eyes fluttering open, I notice the light streaming in through the windows of the small cottage, the white curtains barely blocking the morning sun. My body tightens when I shift to the side. My hand is wrapped around Adalyn, my wrist trapped by a piece of fabric, my hand full of soft, luscious skin.

  My cock throbs.

  My skin tingles.

  My breath is erratic.

  My balls tighten as innocent fingers continue to play with my boxer briefs.

  Trying to blink away the fog I’m in, I realize I wasn’t dreaming. Adalyn is in my arms, my hand is gripping her bare ass, her hair is spread across my shoulder and chest, and her hand is inching closer and closer toward my cock.

  But when I think she might be awake, doing some early morning exploring, I look down at her beautifully sweet face and notice her eyes are closed. Eyes closed, mouth barely parted, blissful sleep consuming her.

  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.”

  “What do you say?” Racer sounds like he’s holding his breath, awaiting my answer, as if I say no, it will really put a damper on his evening.

  A part of me wants to say no because it’s a stolen opportunity I can spend with Adalyn, but from the sound of Racer’s voice, I’m going to assume this would mean a lot to him. He needs me. Given I’m hanging out with the girl he told me to stay away from, I’m going to need all the good vibes on my side when shit goes down.

  “Yeah, I can come help. Just shoot me a text with all the information, and I’ll be there.”

  “Really?” Racer sounds shocked.

  “Of course, but you owe me a Little Debbie snack.”

  “Oooo, cheap shot, man, but I’ll allow it. See you tonight.”

  Hanging up, I put my phone on the counter as the waffle iron beeps. Flipping open the top, I use a pair of tongs to remove the golden-brown waffle and put it directly in the warming toaster oven.