The Single Dad: Girl’s Sexual Awakening

But I didn’t want to go against Hannah, so I reluctantly steered him toward my other hobbies by saying, “I love to bake. Run. Work out. Travel-that’s a big one. And swim in all oceans and seas-I don’t have a preference, although the Dead Sea was incredibly badass.” My breath hitched as his thumb pulled at my bottom lip. “And I have the most fabulous best friend, who you’ve met. Hmm, what else …”

“You bake.”

“Out of all things, that’s what you focused on?”

“I have a sweet tooth.”

I got the sense that he was talking about something other than chocolate.

And it made me wiggle, recrossing my legs, my knee hitting his in the process. I didn’t move it away. I kept it locked against him. “Yes, I do.”

The Turners had had a personal chef. Meals that she mastered for their entire family and me, but desserts were her weakness, so I’d learned how to bake to give the family something sweet after every dinner.

Details Ford didn’t need to know.

But details that had been such a big part of my job since the kids often helped me in the kitchen.

“Here’s your wine,” the bartender said, pulling my attention away from Ford as two glasses were set in front of us.

I lifted mine and held it toward Ford.

“To new memories, starting with this …” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine.

The kiss was unexpected, like a fire that had erupted out of nowhere, the flames quickly moving through my body.

I wasn’t just breathless.

I was wet.

And neither sensation faded when he pulled his mouth away and took a sip.

I took a drink as well, trying to cool myself off, tasting the rich, bold red.

“Tell me what you bake.”

What I bake, I repeated in my head, forcing my brain to register his question.

“What, are you wondering if my cookies will trump Hannah’s?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.”

I twirled the stem of the glass between my fingers, watching the dark wine slosh against the sides. “I’m not one to boast, but I’m pretty good. I can make just about anything.”

“You’re tempting me to take you home.”

I laughed. “To wrap an apron around my waist and make you cookies that will rival anything you’ve ever tasted?”

“Sydney …” His hand returned to my mouth. This time swiping across my lip. Slowly. “I said nothing about putting you in my kitchen.”

SEVEN

FORD

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oddamn it, I couldn’t get enough of her.

Our time together in the bar hadn’t satisfied me.

Neither had dinner.

And, now, as we sat in my car outside the restaurant, the last fucking thing I wanted was to take her home. And then drive back to my place without getting the chance to touch her.

Taste her.

To leave without her scent on my body.

But that was the circumstance I was facing as my hand rested on her thigh instead of the gear shift, my car still in Park.

“Hannah is at my house, watching Everly.”

“I know. I mean, I figured.”

That didn’t make up for the fact that I wanted to tear her fucking clothes off.

That I wanted her in my bed.

That I wanted my lips on her skin, eating, licking. Devouring her until morning.

But my conscience was stopping me, reminding me that it had been a close call last time, and I didn’t want to risk it again.

“Sydney …” Fuck me, she was breathtakingly beautiful. “It just doesn’t feel right to bring you back to my place.”

“I get it; you don’t have to explain yourself.” She sucked in a mouthful of air loud enough for me to hear. “But our evening doesn’t have to end … if you don’t want it to.” Her expression was timid as she said, “Gabby is out for the night.”

It fucking pained me to reply, “I want that. But I can’t stay over.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “You don’t have to.”

“Then, let’s get the hell out of here.” There was no hesitation when I took back my hand, which had been resting on her thigh, and shifted into first gear, quickly maneuvering my way out of the parking lot.

I was just pulling onto the road when she patted her stomach and said, “That was delicious. Better than I remember.” I could feel her gaze on me when she added, “Even the dessert.”

“It’s hard to beat Oreo cheesecake.”

“Wait until you try mine.”

I turned toward her when I reached the light. “Oh yeah?”

“I add a layer of Oreo on top. That way, if your fork doesn’t reach all the way to the bottom, you get a piece of cookie with each mouthful.”

“Jesus.”

“Have I enticed you?” She laughed.

“Sydney, Sydney …” I reached across the space between us, knowing I had little time because I’d need to shift again soon. I just wanted to feel her. My fingers circled under her chin, swiping that bottom lip, the one that was begging for my teeth. “I was enticed long before I knew you could make my favorite kind of cheesecake.”

“But it helps?”

Now, it was my turn to laugh. “It certainly doesn’t hurt.” Silence returned to the car, and I broke it with, “What do you have going on tomorrow?”

“It’s probably time to buy myself a bed. I’m still sleeping with Gabby, and she hasn’t complained, but I’m just starting to feel bad.”

“That’s all the furniture you need?”

“And a dresser and a couple of nightstands. But Gabby and I have this problem where we head out to go shopping and end up at brunch with bottomless mimosas, and all of our plans go to shit.”

“She sounds like my kind of friend.” I turned at the light, weaving my way through the traffic. “How long have you known her?”

“Since high school. She moved in a few houses down from where I grew up. I could see her bedroom window from mine, and in the mornings, before school, we would stand in front of them and show each other our outfits. Because, you know, that was one of the most important parts of high school-clothes.”