Just This Night by Mari Madison

persistent beams of sunlight boring through my blinds in a way-too-enthusiastic announcement of morning. I just wanted a few more minutes of sleep—was that so wrong? Then I’d get up and be the dad, get Ashley ready for preschool as I did every morning. That was what you did when you had kids. Sleeping in became nothing more than a dream.
    But when I stretched out, trying to find a more comfortable position for my last five minutes of peace, my fingers brushed against something soft. Smooth. Something like a . . .
    Breast?
    I jolted up in bed, suddenly realizing where I was.
    What I’d done.
    Who
I’d done.
    Fuuuuuuuuck
.
    I sucked in a breath before daring to look over to my side, dropping my eyes to the sleeping beauty beside me. My gaze involuntarily raked up the entire length of her, completelynaked save for a rumpled bed sheet bunched at her waist. My eyes took in the smooth, tanned skin, the rise and fall of her flawless breasts as she peacefully slumbered, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. It was all I could do not to lean down and see if I could kiss her into consciousness, like the princes always did in the movies.
    But I wasn’t a prince. I was a weak-willed bastard. And I’d already done way too much.
    What had I been thinking? Hadn’t I just said to my sister not twenty-four hours ago that I was through with women forever? And now I just jump into bed with the first one I come across? Seriously what was wrong with me?
    And what about Ashley? I glanced at the nightstand clock. I had to get home before she woke up. Before she wondered where Daddy was and if he’d left her. Left her like Mommy had.
    The night the Bitch had walked out on the two of us, I’d made a vow. A vow that I would never, ever let my baby girl wake up alone and scared. And I wasn’t about to break that promise now—especially for my own selfish pleasure. Ashley needed me. I was all she had in the world. Which meant any type of a personal life needed to take a backseat . . . at least for now.
    I would not let her down.
    I would not be her mother.
    Quietly, I slipped out of bed, grabbing my jeans off the floor and sliding them over my hips. Then I grabbed my shirt and shoes and headed toward the door. Just before exiting, I found myself turning around for one last look.
    God, she was beautiful. Her golden hair now splayed out on her pillow, her long lashes curtaining her beguiling dark eyes. Her mouth was so sweet and sensual and I couldn’t help but replay all those hot, wet kisses from the night before in my mind. Hell, it was all I could do to restrain myself from jumping back into bed and continuing where we left off, consequences be damned.
    I forced myself back to the door. Goddamn it, what was wrong with me? I had to get out of there. Fast. Before shewoke up and wanted things like phone numbers and future dates and relationship status changes on Facebook. Things a girl like her totally deserved. Things a guy like me couldn’t give.
    Guilt knotted in my stomach as I sank down onto the couch to slip on my shoes. The couch I was supposed to have slept on last night. If only I had stayed strong, never agreed to come here in the first place. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what she’d been asking. I knew what would happen if I agreed to come home with her. But I had been like a crack addict being offered the perfect fix. I couldn’t say no.
    Hell, I hadn’t wanted to say no.
    Drawing in a breath, I looked around, searching for pen and paper. I needed to at least leave her my phone number. So we could talk about what had happened. Talk about why it could never happen again. I could tell her that it wasn’t her, that it was me, and that in this case the cliché line was actually true. She was so sweet. So nice. She deserved for me to let her down gently. To understand that she was perfect—completely perfect. And I was the damaged