Baby, Don't Go (Yeah, Baby Book 3) by Fiona Davenport Page A

everything inside, I put the groceries away and hopped in the shower, washing away the grime and some of the stress from the day. Afterwards, I dressed in an old pair of comfy jeans and a grey T-shirt, but stayed barefoot, enjoying the feel of my soft, plush carpet on my feet.
    I pulled my comforter off of the bed and took it to the couch, knowing Ellie would get cold and ask me for it eventually anyway, and tossed it onto one of the couches in my theater room. I checked my phone for an update on my patient and was pleased to know she was improving. When the doorbell rang, I walked down the hall and into my large entryway, to the front door and twisted the handle. Opening it, I found Ellison holding plastic bags in one hand and munching on an egg roll with the other. Her plump lips closed around the cylindrical food and I fought a groan as I suddenly pictured those plump lips around a similarly shaped part of my body. You need to get laid, dude. Clearly, six months of celibacy had put my fucking hormones into overdrive. It didn’t help matters to see her wearing yoga pants that molded to her very fine legs and ass, and a large T-shirt that hung off one shoulder, revealing a bright purple bra strap.
    “That better not be my egg roll,” I growled playfully. Her eyes widened with innocent shock as she took another bite.
    “You wanted one?” She popped the last of the greasy treat into her mouth and chewed slowly. I rolled my eyes and stood back, allowing her to enter.
    “I saved you all of the crab rangoons, though,” she tossed over her shoulder.
    I felt my face screw up in a disgusted grimace, I hated seafood. “Hardy har, Ellie. Now, give me my food.”
    She set the bags on the table while I grabbed plates and silverware, bringing them over to her. We dished up our food, I grumbled over the vegetable fried rice and lo mein, and then we each grabbed a beer and headed for my theater room, settling on a couch to watch our movie. Ellie finished off two plates of food and I wondered, not for the first time, where she put all of it. She was barely five foot three and no more than one hundred and ten pounds, soaking wet. An image I’ve pictured a million times. I grabbed our plates, taking them to the kitchen and returning to find she’d taken over my couch. As usual.
    She was wrapped up in the blanket I’d left for her and I lifted her mummified feet, so I could sit back on my end of the couch and let them drop into my lap. They were dangerously close to my cock and he had definitely taken notice. I focused on the movie, determined to forget about her sexy body and the proximity of her cute little feet to my budding erection. At one point, she ran a toe up her opposite leg, likely scratching it, but it was sexy as hell, and I had to clench my fists in order to keep from following the path of her foot with my hands. Then she shifted and when she brushed against my hard as fuck cock, I almost came in my pants right then and there. If she noticed the bulge in my crotch, she didn’t mention it and I wasn’t going to bring it up. All in all, it was fucking agony.
    I managed to get through it, but when the credits started to roll, I jumped up, almost knocking her to the ground.
    “Hey!” she yelped as she caught herself.
    “Sorry, I need some...um...ice cream!” I hurried to the kitchen and opened the freezer, basking in the cool air. I dished up the bowls and returned to the living room, handing hers over and taking a seat in my black, leather recliner.
    “Ready for the sequel?” I asked as I cued up the DVR.
    She licked her spoon and let out a tiny little moan of delight. Fuck! Ok, stupid choice of words.
    “Sure. Although, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay for it all.”
    I glanced at her in surprise. “You know you can crash here if it gets too late or if you want to have a couple of beers.”
    She nodded absentmindedly, continuing to dig into her ice cream, searching out the little peanut butter cups.