The Darkest Sunrise

He cupped my jaw, his thumb gliding across my curved lips as he scolded, “Rule number three, sweetheart.”

No faking it.

I covered my hand with his and turned into it so I could kiss his palm. “Rule number two, Porter.”

No judgments.

He sighed and dropped his hand. Bending forward to touch his lips to my hair, he murmured, “Tonight.”

My stomach fluttered as I nodded and whispered, “I’ll leave the light off for you.”

With one last smile and a wink, he took off, his long legs stretching to catch up with his kids.

And then he was gone.

Until tonight.

“Come on, Charlotte,” Porter growled into my ear.

My hands were pinned over my head, our fingers laced together, and my legs were wide as he drove into me, hard and fast.

“I’m close, baby,” I panted.

Porter hadn’t even said hello when he’d arrived at my apartment that night. That is unless you counted him stripping my bra off (again, over my head) and latching his hungry mouth over my nipple. In which case, it was quite possibly the best hello anyone had ever given me.

His talented fingers had been in my panties before I’d managed to get his shirt off.

Though, I assumed this was what you got when you answered the front door at eleven thirty at night in nothing but a few scraps of black lace and a pair of heels that even I had to admit were sexy as hell. This setup had required another trip to the mall after work, another blowout at the hair salon, and, yes, another trip past the MAC counter. But, given Porter’s reaction, it was worth every penny.

I had come on his hand before we’d even made it out of my living room.

And then I’d come again on his mouth before we’d even made it to the bed.

And, now, I was about to come on his cock, thankfully on a soft mattress, but that was about the only thing soft about it.

My cheeks were raw from the scruff on his jaw, and my breasts were tender from his constant attention.

While we both liked the darkness, that wasn’t an option for Porter that night. My apartment probably looked like an airport runway leading to the bedroom. As we’d banged into walls and knocked over the few picture frames that decorated my apartment, Porter had turned on every single light he could find.

He was a gorgeous man, so I did not complain about getting to watch his abs ripple as he rolled his hips with every thrust. Nor did I complain about the view of his back tensing as he feasted between my legs. And I sure as hell wasn’t about to complain about getting to witness the indescribable beauty of Porter Reese losing himself inside me.

“So fucking perfect,” he growled, planting himself to the hilt, his gaze so heated that it caused the cool air to pebble my skin. After releasing my hands, he hooked his arm under the backs of my knees and pressed them high.

He slid deep, and I moaned as my orgasm tore through me. My whole body convulsed. Toes curling, stomach tightening, core clenching, fingers tingling, breath shuddering.

“There we go,” he praised as his pace quickened.

I was still floating through my high when I felt his body tense and a strained whisper vaguely sounding like my name breezed from his lips.

Seriously fucking beautiful.

He lowered my legs back to the bed, and his body sagged as he rode his release out inside me.

I lay there, beneath his heavy but incredibly comforting weight, silently trailing my fingers up and down his back for some time.

Just when I was starting to believe he had fallen asleep, his head popped up and a gentle smile pulled at his lips. “Hi.”

I grinned. “Hello to you too.”

He dipped low and kissed my lips before rolling off me, but he didn’t go far. Propping his elbow on the bed, he cradled his head in his hand and stared at me. “You always answer your door in lingerie?”

“Of course,” I answered, rolling to my side to face him. “I find it bolsters the neighborhood morale.”

His lips twitched. “It sure as hell bolstered mine.”

I laughed and scooted closer.

He took the hint and shifted to his back, stretching his arm out so I could rest my head on it and curl into his side.

“How was the rest of your day?” he asked the ceiling.

“Busy. I spent two hours playing catchup with patients. Sent one up to the hospital. Then I had an early dinner with Gina and Erin before they had to catch a flight back to Texas.”

His arms spasmed around me, and his lips found my forehead, where he murmured, “You’re amazing.”

“Not really. It was Japanese, my favorite. So not exactly a sacrifice.”

He chuckled. “You know what I mean.”

I draped my arm over his stomach and gave him a squeeze in acknowledgement. “How long can you stay?” I asked.

He groaned. “Not long. I told my mom I’d be home by twelve thirty.”

“Ah, curfew,” I teased, doing my best to keep the sadness out of my voice. What I wouldn’t have given to fall asleep in his arms like we had that night on the porch at his brother’s house.

“I have to be at The Tannerhouse tomorrow night until nine. I’ll be busy, but why don’t you and your girlfriends come by and have drinks?”

“I have one girlfriend, Porter.”

“Okay, so you and one girlfriend come by and have drinks on the house. I’ll drive you both home after.”

I smiled and tipped my head back to peer up at him. “Is there a couch in your office there too?”

“Yes. But Tanner uses that office more than I do, so you’d have to be wearing a hazmat suit before I’d ever allow you to sit on it.”

I laughed, and God, it felt so freaking good. It was my favorite part of the Porter Reese effect. “I wish I could, but I’m on call tomorrow night. What about Wednesday night?”

He groaned. “Can’t. I’m off on Wednesday.”

Normally, this would have been good news. I didn’t have office hours on Wednesdays, so barring any emergencies, we could have spent the day together.

But I knew exactly what Porter’s being off meant. He’d be spending the day with his children.

“Oh,” I breathed, my disappointment obvious.

“What about lunch on Thursday? I have a manager on vacation, but I don’t have to go in until three.”

I smiled tightly. “I have patients on Thursdays.”

His lips thinned, his frustration matching my own.

“It’s okay,” I told him. “We’ll get together this weekend or something.”

He sighed and folded his arm under his head. “I’m off this Friday too because I have to work both Saturday and Sunday nights.”

I didn’t say anything else as I cut my gaze away and began staring at the wall.

Apparently, this whole dating-a-single-dad thing was going to be a lot more difficult than I’d thought. And that sucked something fierce because I loved spending time with him, even if it was silently in the darkness. Just knowing that Porter was there freed me in unimaginable ways.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, reading my mood. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah. I know. But it’s always going to be like this. Us stealing random minutes and, if we’re lucky, hours during the day to be together.”

“Hey. Look at me,” he urged. His hand went under my chin, where he forced my head back until I had no choice but to give him my eyes. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll rob Father Time for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes to get you. In the meantime, we’ve got phones.” His whole face smiled. “Imagine how much fun we could have if you actually returned one of my texts.”

My lips twitched. “You’re awkward via text.”

He smiled. “I’m awkward all the time, sweetheart.” He paused to pointedly pluck my nipple. “It doesn’t seem to have deterred you in the least.”

And there it was again. A real, honest-to-God laugh bubbled in my throat, warming me in all the right places, but especially the one in my chest.

“Okay, Porter. We’ll text and I won’t let your awkwardness deter me.”

“So generous,” he deadpanned.