Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Very Downton Abbey of you.”
Shit. Her, me, in some big house with nothing but time, money, and riding crops? Not a bad idea at all. “Nah, but it’s a nice dinner. And even though you look cute as hell in that hoodie…”
She nods slowly, trailing her finger along the granite, letting her fingertip linger in a little pit in the stone. “What do you want me to wear?”
Those words, they take me from hard to throbbing. Me. Dressing her? Fuck. “You sure you want me to answer that?”
“Mmmhmm,” she says, eyes growing darker, breath coming quicker.
“I want you to wear something that shows off that body. However you want me to see it.”
She comes back down wearing this tiny little dress; white, made of some gauzy white fabric that shows off her nipples, her curves while making her look like some innocent wide-eyed bride unsure what’s about to happen. And proves once and for all what I’d known already—she’s not a girl anymore. She’s blossomed into a woman.
Almost.
I like sitting across from her at dinner a whole fucking lot. It feels so fucking natural, so fucking easy. And even though she’s only eighteen, she’s got an old soul—always has had one. She’s thoughtful, kind, and I feel connected to her now in a way that isn’t just because I’m her dad’s best friend.
It’s because of her. And me. And whatever this is between us.
Dinner is slow, soft, sensuous. We eat Moroccan style, which I know she loves—no utensils, only fingers. And that means I get to watch those pretty lips suck her fingers clean. Again and again and again.
Halfway through the main course, I’m so fucking hard that I can barely see straight. She looks up at me, sucking her thumb clean.
“You okay?”
Okay? I’m in fucking heaven itself.
“Yeah. I just… I like that you’re here. With me. Like this.”
She takes a slow sip of her wine. I like that too; she’s eighteen now, and there’s nothing stopping her from getting lit if she wants to, but she doesn’t. Such a good girl. “Me too. So much.”
The noise of both our phones dinging at once breaks the moment. Our eyes connect, and I can tell she’s as annoyed as I am that life is intruding.
“It’s got to be Sam on the group chat.” I sigh feeling the tension break.
She nods. “I’ll go check.”
I hold up a finger. “Don’t you dare. I got this.”
My phone rings to life with a call before I can even unlock it. Sam, as I suspected. I answer the call and the noise a busy restaurant comes through the line.
“You alright, bud?” I ask him.
“Yep, but tipsy! So I’m going to stay the night with Mom in her suite. She doesn’t want me to leave. That alright?”
I feel my balls tighten. That means that Jess and I will be alone. All. Fucking. Night?
Is that a very good thing? Or a very bad thing? “You know she’s here to work, Sam.”
“Pffffft. Work, schmerk!” he says. “We’ve split a bottle of wine and now she’s trying to con me into an Irish coffee. Imma probably have to peel her off the floor.”
Probably right. Things with his mom are so far in the distant past, it feels like a lifetime ago. I hear her laughing in the background, and it only confirms what I knew already. I never felt for any other woman what I feel for Jess. Not even fucking close.
“Love you, Dad! Gotta go! Back tomorrow.” Sam says and ends the call.
I turn to face Jess. She’s already standing. Blinking slowly, taking a step toward me. “Tomorrow.”
As she comes toward me, all the pent-up passion of the last year starts to shift from molten lava to a raging fucking volcano inside me. She’s got no fucking clue what I’m feeling. If she did, she wouldn’t be looking so cute and sweet.
But she ignores the warning in my eyes. She shifts her hair over her shoulder, revealing the creamy line of her neck, the shell of her ear, the edge of her collarbone, the hollow of her throat.
“Remember what I told you, little girl.”
That makes her perk up in a new way. Like I’ve dared her. Like I’ve taunted her.
But she doesn’t back down. Instead she takes another step into me, getting closer. Closer to my desire. Closer to the fucking danger.
She’s right up against me now. Skin to skin. Breath to breath. I inhale her sweetness, her warmth. And she gently, so fucking gently, runs her fingertips up my forearm.
“Remember what I said too, though. What if I don’t want to finish what I’m starting?” Her words tease but her eyes are all in.
Like a fucking pistol going off inside me, I grab hold of her—hands to her hips, grabbing her thighs, pulling her close and shoving her back onto the dining table. Dishes crash, glasses break, and I don’t give a fuck.