She’s 36 and wants to get pregnant. He’s a single dad who wants to make her list and then be the only man on it. An all-new over-40, small town romance is out this week from author L.B. Dunbar, and I have a sneak peek for you.
“You don’t need me to be the dad. You just want my sperm.” He’s trying to tease me, but his eyes scan my body. He chews at his lower lip. Instantly, I’m as heated as I was standing before him when he sat on the kitchen stool earlier this evening. My head says deny him while my body screams for release, wanting more than my own fingers to perform the finishing act.
“Fine,” I mutter, sounding petulant even though I’m anything but. My hands curl to fists as I lie on my back.
“Why do you look like you’re gritting your teeth? Would it really be that bad to sleep with me?” His softening tone puzzles me. He reaches forward, connecting with my skin this time by stroking one finger over my knee and circling the cap before dragging it down my shin. “I’d want you to enjoy it.”
Yes, please, I think as his finger retraces its path and drags over my knee again, heading up the length of my thigh to the hem of my briefs, which is high on my leg. Reaching the edge, he slips his fingertip just beneath the material at the center of my thigh where my leg meets my hip.
“I don’t want you to feel like I’m doing you a favor.”
Please, do me a favor. Do me.
Logan pulls his finger away and stands taller. “I get it. I’m not Mason, but I still think we’d be good. I’d be good to you.” His eyes avoid mine as he slips his hands into his short’s pockets. He pauses a beat before turning on his feet and heading for my door.
My body vibrates but watching him walk away, everything in my body screeches to a halt. He can’t leave me like this. I’m too wound up between his touch, and the book, and earlier. Plus, my hormones are raging, and my gut says this is the time. I’m between my cycle.
Scrambling to my knees on the bed, I follow his retreat, crawling on my knees as he stalks to the door.
“Wait.” The word rushes out of me as I reach forward, nowhere near able to catch him with my touch. “Don’t . . . leave.”
A foot from the door, Logan turns back to me.
“I don’t want Mason.”
My chest heaves as we stare at one another. I can’t read his expression. Am I really doing this? “But we need some ground rules.”
Logan tilts his head as his hands come to his hips. “Okay.”
“It’s only sex. You get in and stay in until I say to move.”
Logan chuckles, reaching up for his mouth and scrubbing his fingers around his lips. “Never heard that before, but okay.”
“I’m clean. Rick left me over eight months ago, and I got tested right away when I found out he cheated on me.”
“Fucking bastard,” Logan says, and the harshness actually warms my insides. He’s pissed on my behalf. “I haven’t been with anyone in over a year.”
I stare back at him, shocked. “But you’re so . . .”
“What?” The sharpness in his tone the second time forces me to admit how I see him.
“Hot.” Slowly the edge in his expression melts away and he grins a sheepish boy grin.
“You’re fucking hot, too, sweetheart.” Oh God, call me endearments and I’m mush.
“You don’t need to feel responsible for medical expenses, holding my hand during delivery, or anything thereafter for the remainder of the child’s life.”
“Jesus,” he mutters as I return us to the rules. Turning his head away from me, he stares out the windows where the sky is a deep bruising color of blues and approaching black. “Fine.”
He looks back at me. “I have a rule as well.”
“Okay,” I hesitate.
“Nothing held back. You let me say what I want, do what I want to your body.”
Holy shit, yes.
“Be up front now if there’s a hard limit. I’m not doing safe word shit. You can stop me in the middle of anything, but I’d like to know now where I can’t go.”
Blinking at him, I swallow around the admission. “I’ve never had anyone in the back, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I also don’t think I’d be into sharing, even if it’s been a fantasy.”
“Sweet Christ,” he hisses, stepping back to the side of the bed. I shift to follow him, facing him still on my knees on the mattress. “I’d never share you.” The heat in his words scorches my skin, making me feel wanted more than I’ve ever felt.
“What about you?” I ask, my voice croaking as I speak. “Do you have any limits?”
“I want to be the only one who fucks you. If this doesn’t work”—he points between our lower bellies—“you can move on . . . to the next guy. But for two weeks, give me a try and be only mine.”