The Single Daddy Situation

by Layla Valentine

  “I own my own business,” he finally answered. “My friend and I started it up after we graduated from Stanford. We pooled up a bunch of money and threw it behind a tech business one of our other friends had planned to start. His website and his app took off after a year or two, and from there, we just sort of rinsed and repeated.”

  Mariah lifted a sculpted brow. “Venture capitalism?”

  Logan nodded. “Yeah, that’s what it’s called. But it’s a little different than it sounds, or at least it is for us. We didn’t go into it thinking of all the money we were going to make, or at least that wasn’t our top priority. We just saw our friend—this good guy with a great idea for a website platform that would really make a difference in people’s lives—and we ran with it. We got him the money he needed to get everything started, and we saw firsthand what a huge impact it had, so we decided to keep doing it.”

  Elbows propped atop the polished wooden table, Mariah kept her eyes fixed on him as she leaned forward. “Really? To be completely honest, I always thought that people in the venture capitalism business were a bunch of cutthroat pricks.”

  He gave her a knowing smile. “Plenty of them are, don’t get me wrong. But there are some good people in this industry, too. People willing to take risks to help small business owners get a foothold in their industry. I know it sounds cliché as all hell, but I got into this line of work so I could make a difference. Those things aren’t mutually exclusive, you know? Making money and making a difference, I mean.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she replied, her expression brightening.

  Logan wasn’t sure how long they sat in that booth while they swapped stories about everything from their music preferences to their hidden love for professional wrestling to their fathers’ half-assed efforts to involve themselves in their respective lives.

  Even with his friends from college, Logan didn’t feel this comfortable revealing the details of his less-than-great childhood, but Mariah didn’t have to say the words for him to know that she understood. When he made a disparaging joke about his father, she didn’t look at him with pity or sadness. She laughed.

  She laughed because she understood.

  Her obsession with 1990s hip-hop music was parallel to his infatuation with grunge and alternative rock from the same decade. They even discovered that they’d both been at the same concert at Red Rocks Amphitheater two years earlier.

  Though he kept the sentiment to himself, he was glad they hadn’t come across one another at the show. He had been in a dark place then, and self-destruction had been his mantra for a solid six months before he finally quit running from his grief.

  By the time they each finished their recollection of their experience at the show—though his was highly edited—his movements felt easier and his head was light.

  He gestured to the newly emptied glasses and shifted his gaze back to Mariah. “You want another round?”

  She tapped a finger against her lips as a thoughtful look flitted across her pretty face.

  “Actually,” she started, “I was wondering if we could get out of here?”

  The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk as he nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 4

  Logan

  Mariah’s fifth-story apartment wasn’t large, but the fixtures and the décor were tasteful. One wall was comprised of exposed brick, and the tall ceilings gave the space an industrial feel. Plus, Logan had always liked open floor plans.

  As Mariah strode out of the foyer to flick on a track light fixture above a granite breakfast bar, her bare feet were almost silent against the hardwood floor. He kept his eyes on her lithe form as he stepped out of one shoe, and then the other. Her gaze flicked back over to him as he approached, a mischievous expression on her face.

  “So…” He held out his hands as he offered her a quizzical glance. “What do you want to do now?”

  When he stopped to stand in front of her, she flicked a piece of dark hair over her shoulder and shrugged. A glimmer of the sly smirk was back when she returned her eyes to his. He swore he could almost feel the warmth of her body at the lessened distance, and a sudden thought occurred to him.

  “I haven’t even gotten to touch you yet,” he said.

  She feigned a matter-of-fact stare as she shook her head. “That’s not true. I shook your hand earlier, remember?”

  Her sarcasm was unending, and he loved it. That sassy attitude of hers turned him on.

  With a low chuckle, he closed the remaining space between them and brushed the tips of his fingers along the soft strands of her hair.

  Every beat of his heart pumped the sensation of longing through his veins. It was more than just the desire to feel himself buried inside her, though that sense of longing was undoubtedly prominent. But he wanted more. He wanted her to be his; her body, her mind, and her heart.

  The sentiment took him aback, but he barreled past the moment of shock and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “That’s not what I want to do with you right now.”

  Tilting her head, she brushed her lips along the side of his face. “Then what do you want to do with me?” she purred.

  He took hold of her chin with one hand as he slipped the other around her waist. Palm flat on the small of her back, he pulled her in to press her body against his. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so carried away in the sensation of a woman’s closeness. He reveled in the feeling as much as he was wary of it.

  As he gingerly guided her head to face him, she tightened her grasp on his shoulders. He could feel the hurried cadence of her pulse, could hear her labored breathing. She wanted this just as bad as he did.

  Without offering an answer to her question, he turned her face to his for a fervent kiss. Her lips were as soft and sweet as he’d imagined.

  He brushed his tongue along her bottom lip, and without hesitance, she parted her lips. As he tasted the hint of liquor on her tongue, he trailed his fingers down the shape of her face to the silky skin of her neck.

  He stopped before he reached the curve of her breast, and he broke away from the impassioned kiss to peer down at her. A mischievous glint sparkled in her amber and green eyes.

  “It’s the door at the other end of the living room,” she said before he could pose the question.

  A touch of a smirk made its way to his face. “How do you know I was going to ask you where your room was? Maybe I just wanted to know where you kept your backgammon board.”

  Her laugh was light and melodic. “I don’t have backgammon, but if you want to play board games…” With a sweet smile, she shrugged.

  He ignored the knee-jerk reaction in his mind that told him he’d be content to do just about anything if it meant he could spend more time with her.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he took a reluctant step away from her.

  At the opposite edge of the living room was the shape of a shadowy hallway—the hallway that led to her bedroom. He turned to face her.

  Without preamble, he wrapped one arm around her waist, hunched over, and used the angle to sweep her up into his arms. As she snapped up both hands to clasp his shoulders, she let out a slight gasp. The sound of surprise turned into another melodic laugh, and he swore he could feel his heart skip a beat.

  He tilted his head to brush his lips along her cheek. But before he could turn his attention back to the path to the hallway, she combed the fingers of one hand through his hair and met his lips for a drawn-out kiss. Between her warm touch and the feel of her tongue on his, the tingle of desire soon became more akin to an electric current.

  He could already tell that Mariah Penn was a woman who knew what she wanted. She knew herself, and she didn’t hesitate to satiate the lust that coursed through her body. And to Logan, there was nothing sexier than a confident woman.

  To be sure, he still preferred to keep control of his sexual encounters, but there was something to be said for knowing that his partner enjoyed herself as much as he did. With Mariah
, he knew he didn’t have to wonder. If she wanted something—or didn’t want something—she’d tell him.

  By the time they separated from the kiss, he was almost tempted to throw her down on the couch and tear off all her clothes. He needed to feel her bare skin against more than just his forearms, needed to taste the sensitive skin of her neck and the other parts of her he hadn’t yet seen. But more than anything, he wanted to hear the way she moaned when he was inside her.

  As he picked his way across the living room, he felt her rapid heartbeat where she was curled against his chest. Without a doubt, she wanted this just as much as he did.

  Finally, just as he was sure he couldn’t wait anymore, he crossed into the bedroom. The orange and white lights of the city glittered through the portion of the picture window that wasn’t covered by the blinds or curtains, but otherwise, they were bathed in darkness.

  Rather than toss her onto the bed, he tilted his head for another drawn-out kiss as he began to lower her to the plush surface. He followed her descent, resting one knee between her legs. Her dark hair fanned out over the lighter fabric of the pillow, and the meager light from the city seemed to sparkle in her eyes as she peered up at him.

  As much as he wanted to strip off his clothes and get right to it, he was captivated by the light in her eyes and the small smile that played across her lips. The darkness of her long hair stood out in stark contrast to her fair skin, and the shadows shifted along the shape of her breasts with each breath she took.

  Mariah was confident, but he doubted she knew how flawless she looked in that moment. He wanted to tell her, but he wasn’t sure he could manage a vocalization that wouldn’t make him sound like a caveman.

  Instead of an attempt to convey his infatuation with her, he leaned in for a kiss, slipped his tongue between her lips, and let himself get lost.

  The tips of her fingers brushed against his chest as she worked to undo the buttons of his shirt, igniting a new spark of anticipation. He slid one hand beneath the fabric of her shirt to trace up along her stomach, a trail of goosebumps left in the wake of his touch. As he slipped his fingers under her bra to the supple skin of her breast, she let out a slight moan.

  That was it, he thought. He wanted to hear that sound again. He wanted to hear that sound as many times as he could in the time they had together.

  When she undid the final button of his shirt, she ran her teasing caress along his chest and down his stomach, only pausing when she reached the clasp of his belt. To emphasize the carnal need that had overtaken his senses, he ran his thumb over her nipple and offered a light pinch. As she moaned, he heard the metallic clink of his belt buckle.

  In response, he traced the same hand down her smooth stomach to unbutton her shorts. But before he slipped a finger down to the blissful warmth between her legs, he pushed up the fabric of her shirt. At the wordless request, she pulled the fabric up and over her head.

  As she tossed the garment to the floor, he shrugged out of his white dress shirt. Before he leaned back in for another kiss, he paused to let his eyes roam her body. The rise and fall of her chest was quicker now, he noticed. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one beholden to the unstoppable rush of desire.

  He wanted to look at her, to soak in every defining curve of her body in the relative shadows of the night, to etch permanently into his mind the way her eyes seemed to sparkle when she looked up at him. But as much as he wanted to ensure he never forgot the sight of her half-naked body beneath him, the pressing desire to feel her was just short of overwhelming.

  As he planted one hand to the side of her head and lowered himself back down to her, he used the other hand to pull down his pants. Mariah shifted in her spot, and when he broke away from the kiss to glance down to the movement, she flung her shorts to the floor.

  The sly smirk he wore in response was just short of involuntary. Sliding one hand beneath her back to unhook the lacy bra, he pressed his lips against hers in a lingering, passionate kiss. The liquor on her tongue had faded, but the taste of her was still just as intoxicating.

  He separated from the kiss as he ran a hand down her hip and to the inside of her thigh. He wanted to hear her moan.

  As their eyes met, he slipped two fingers beneath her lace underwear to caress the heat that had built between her legs. Eyes closed, she parted her lips and took in a shuddery breath.

  “You’re so wet,” he purred.

  “Logan,” she moaned.

  Every nerve ending in his body stood at attention at the sound of his name on her lips.

  He kept the motion of his fingers slow and deliberate as he leaned down to nip at her earlobe. “What’s that, baby?” he murmured.

  Though slight, her hips swayed as he continued his purposeful caress.

  “Please,” she breathed.

  When he looked back to her, the haze of unadulterated lust in her eyes was just short of breathtaking. But he wanted to hear her say it. “Please what?”

  Her eyelids fluttered as she moaned again. Still, he didn’t stop teasing her. Even if she came now, he’d make her come again while he was inside her.

  With another fleeting kiss, he tilted his head to run his tongue along her soft neck. As she clamped one hand down around his upper arm, he knew she was reaching a new level of intensity.

  She dug her fingertips into his bicep. “I need you inside me, Logan.”

  The words were like the incantation of a spell. In one swift movement, he discarded his final article of clothing as she slid the skimpy underwear down her legs.

  Fixing his eyes on hers, he used one hand to guide himself as he eased into her blissful warmth. With a slight gasp, she dug her nails into his upper arm. The sting mingled with the sensation of pleasure as he finished the motion.

  “Are you all right?” The question was a breathless whisper, but he was surprised he could manage a coherent sentence at all. Aside from the carnal need that had enveloped him, he couldn’t even think.

  He thought he’d had good sex over the past few years, but this was on an entirely new level.

  Easing her grasp on his arms, she nodded. “It’s just, it’s been a little while, and you…” She paused to lick her lips as their eyes met. “You’re big.”

  Propping an elbow beside her head, he brushed the displaced strands of dark hair from her eyes as he leaned in for a light kiss. Before he pulled his lips away from hers, he started to pull out of her for the first time. Though he wanted to ravage her until she cried out in pleasure, he knew he wouldn’t last long if he set such a frantic pace right away. He wanted this to last.

  Each movement measured, he pushed back into her. As she moaned into his mouth, he took hold of one of her wrists to pin her arm above her head.

  “I can go slow,” he murmured as he interlocked his fingers with hers. To him, the gesture was as intimate as the sex itself, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done it.

  With a slight nod, she tightened her grip on his hand. “Just to start.” Her words were breathless, just short of a moan. “It feels so damn good, though. Please don’t stop.” For emphasis, she raised one leg to rest her calf along his back.

  He shook his head. “Never.”

  He knew the single word was a promise he couldn’t keep. But right now, he would say almost anything to keep her on the same level of veritable ecstasy as him.

  Chapter 5

  Mariah

  As she drifted away from the haze of unconsciousness, Mariah was keenly aware of the warmth of Logan’s body at her side. The cadence of his breathing was slow and rhythmic, and as she opened her eyes, she wasn’t surprised to see that he was still asleep.

  Though the first hints of stubble darkened his cheeks and his hair was tousled, his handsome face was serene. She’d known him for less than twenty-four hours, but something told her that serene wasn’t often a word that could be used to describe Logan Harfield. There was a story behind those gray eyes, and for a split second, Mariah worried she would never learn
what it was.

  Swallowing against the tightness in her throat, she shoved the thoughts to the dark recesses of her mind as she blinked away the haze in her vision. There had been nothing in their interaction the night before to indicate that he intended to stick around for more than a short fling, but she realized suddenly that she had ventured into dangerous territory. She realized that what she saw when she looked at him was the first hint of hope.

  Hope that he’d be more to her than just a fantastic lay. Hope that someday she’d learn his story. That someday, she’d be able to reach in and help mend whatever part of him had been broken by the trials and hardships of his past.

  Stop it, she told herself. Knock it off. This is a good day, regardless of what happens with him.

  She turned her head to glance at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand to her side. The first hints of orange and golden sunlight filtered in through the gap in the navy blue and silver curtains, but the illumination hadn’t quite reached the bed. According to the glowing numbers, she’d woken up a full twenty minutes before her alarm was set to go off.

  For the first time in recent memory, Mariah was grateful for the racing thoughts that had snapped her away from the land of dreams. At least this way, she could slip out of bed without waking Logan.

  This way, she wouldn’t have to say goodbye to him.

  Each movement slow and diligent, she reluctantly slid out from the warmth of Logan’s body. With a quiet groan, he shifted to lay on his stomach, but his slow breathing didn’t change.

  As Mariah moved to stand, the ache in her thighs rushed to greet her. She stuck to a rigorous workout routine, but last night, she’d used muscles she hadn’t even thought of in close to a year. After a quick stretch to ease the worn-out muscles from her previous day’s victory and celebration activities with Logan, she tiptoed around her room and grabbed fresh clothes to wear.