Page 72 of The Fire Captain's Unexpected Baby
It’s hard for me to picture anyone as Noah’s dad, but Aaron comes closest.
The longer I stand here and listen to Aaron act out the stories Noah has suckered him into reading, the more I realize I like him. And the feeling in my body moves from mild amusement at the control of a tiny tot wrapping Aaron around his finger to something deeper.
Something I can feel stirring in my core.
Heat bubbles beneath the surface, begging for someone to let it out. I already know that I’m slick for him. Tonight was supposed to be about gently getting to know one another, and my body is about to betray me.
What can I say? It turns me on to see a strong man take care of my very small and very precious toddler.
With that in mind, I decide to go ahead with the little surprise I planned for Aaron. Every time we spent the night together, I didn’t really get to dress up for him. Unicorn pajamas, scrubs, and now…
I stopped by the lingerie store while my mom watched Noah today. She thought I was going to the grocery store to get ingredients to cook for Aaron tonight—and I did that.
Until I passed the sleek black building that promised I could drive him wild. I went inside, biting my lip and feeling like an older mom like me couldn’t possibly belong. Just when I was about to back out without so much as breathing on the silk, a sales assistant stopped me.
“What can I help you find today? Something for a special occasion?” She seemed genuinely interested and helpful, wearing a black blazer over a pink silk shirt and her hair pulled in a sleek ponytail.
“I’m not sure I belong?—”
“Everyone belongs here,” she corrected before I could finish. “Maybe something nice for everyday wear?”
“No,” I mumbled. “Special occasion.”
She smiled, and we walked to the back corner of the store. It was filled with floaty nightgowns, delicate lace, and silk in a variety of colors. April, as her name tag said, sized me up and down for a moment before handing me an emerald-green negligee.
“This color will highlight your eyes and hair. The cut of the nightgown isn’t so tight that it will show everything, but it’s tight enough to bring out the best of your curves. It covers the tummythat most moms are sensitive about,” she said expertly. “And it’s on sale.”
My jaw dropped at how easy all of this turned out. Maybe I would buy more lingerie if I knew that I could walk in and have a personal shopper tell me just what I wanted.
I paid, brought it home, and hid it away. Now, I’m standing in front of the mirror in my bedroom, studying my reflection in the negligee. I had locked the bedroom door, wanting to surprise Aaron when I was good and ready.
He knocks gently on the door. “I’m going to go down and get a head start on those dishes.”
“Down in a sec,” I assure him.
I take one final spin and see the fabric flow around my thighs. Truthfully, it barely touches my thighs. I take a deep breath until I feel the air ignite in my belly, and then I make myself walk as slowly as possible downstairs.
Aaron was hunched over the kitchen sink, washing the last dish. He doesn’t look up when I approach.
“How are the dishes coming?” I try to steady my voice, make it as normal as I possibly can, which is no easy feat with the butterflies in my belly.
“Last one,” he says, putting it in the dish rack and turning to look at me.
He jumps back as soon as he sees me, gripping the edge of the countertop so hard his knuckles turn white. The muscles in his forearm bulge with the effort of holding himself there. His jaw hangs open, his eyes trailing over every inch of skin that I’ve left bare to him.
I spin to show him the back, and he groans as my ass comes into view. I know the skimpy fabric won’t cover it from that angle. I hope he got a good look at the matching G-string beneath.
Slowly, I sashay toward him and place my hands on his chest. His heart is beating erratically, even more so when I lean up against him and feel his hard cock pressed against my thigh.
“I thought we could have that tiramisu now,” I whisper.
“Dessert,” he says, snapping one of the thin shoulder straps. “All of this effort, and the only thing you want is dessert.”
He picks me up by the waist and lifts me onto the dining table next to the chilled tiramisu container. A cold spoon dips into the cream, and he teases me around the lips with it before he finally lets me take a bite.
I can handle a little teasing.
I remove his shirt so that I have more skin to work with. He moans at the feel of my hands on his pecs and chiseled abs. I can’t resist the idea of running a finger slowly along the waistband of his boxers.
