I was hoping this would be the visit he told me the truth, but I guess he isn’t ready yet, as evidenced by the knockout blonde he’s got pretending to be his girl. The one fanning her face in my front yard, trying to hide the proof I turned her on, same as she revved my engine.
Goddamn. This one is trouble times ten.
I need to get a lick of that more than I want my next thousand meals.
Our eyes meet through the window and I can feel her gasp deep in my balls. I fist my hand on the sill, imagining that honey blonde hair wrapped around my knuckles while I guide her lips up and down my cock. I’ve never had this kind of reaction to a female. Not in all my forty-two years. This one—Lyssa—she’s way too petite for me. Way too young. And she’s pretending to date my son.
If I make a play for her, I’d be forcing them to give up the charade.
I don’t want to force Mason to be honest with me before he’s ready…
But it’s going to be a struggle to keep my hands off Lyssa. Something about her has my stomach all tied up in knots. I’m not sure what the hell my reaction to her signifies, but I can’t imagine not finding out. I want to touch her. Right now.
She has the nerve to look bored when she finally walks through my door, holding her cell in one hand, tossing her hair with the other. There’s no hiding the fluttering pulse at the base of her neck, however. Or the way she keeps peeking up at me from beneath her long, black eyelashes.
Does she like my place?
Why the hell do I care?
I moved up to the Catskills so I wouldn’t have to be around people or listen to their opinions. Even back in the day, between deployments, I always found somewhere private to hunker down and wait for my next orders. No relationships to steal my focus. Can’t even say I had some great love affair with Mason’s mother. She was just an anonymous one-night stand until she showed up ten months later with a bundle in her arms. The surprise outraged me at first, especially because I never failed to use protection. Then I saw the child and I couldn’t help wanting to protect him. Help him in a way no one did for me.
It’s obvious he hates coming up here to visit me, but I won’t be an absent father. And I like the kid. So he’ll just have to put up with me.
My gaze travels back to Lyssa who is circling the living room, her thigh rubbing against the arm of my easy chair. She bends forward to inspect the book on my coffee table, and her frayed jean shorts ride straight up her ass, showing off two firm, little butt cheeks. Christ almighty. She might as well be going around in panties for all the coverage those things provide. If she plans on going anywhere outside this cabin, she’ll need a lot more protection from the elements.
Inside the cabin, she’ll need a lot more protection from me.
Don’t even think about it, John.
“Sit down,” I grumble, making them both jump. “Stew’s ready.”
“Great,” Mason says, dropping onto a chair. “All I’ve eaten today is a scone.”
Am I not sending him enough money to eat? I start to ask him that question, but hesitate. Would that embarrass him in front of Lyssa? Maybe. While I spoon beef stew into bowls and set them on the table, I make a mental note to ask him about funds later.
Lyssa makes her way over to the table and I move on reflex, pulling out her chair—a terrible mistake. Her perfume smells like fresh berries and hits me hard. Up close, she’s even more mind-blowingly beautiful. Smooth skin. Wide, generous lips. Tits designed to make a man crawl. Huge green eyes remain arrested on my face for several beats before she lowers herself into the chair I’m holding out.
My fingers itch to tunnel into her hair, pull back her hair and feast on her fucking mouth. But I can’t do that. I cannot do that.
I clear my throat hard and take my place at the table, Mason and Lyssa sitting across from me. “How is New York?”
My son laughs. “You can’t even say New York without scowling.”
I tuck into my stew with a grunt. “It’s a disgusting hell hole full of rats.”
“Tell us how you really feel,” Mason snickers. “There are a lot of great things about it, too.” He winks at Lyssa. “After all, it’s where I met this one.”
The stew turns to sludge in my mouth.
“That’s right,” she murmurs, using her spoon to push a carrot around her bowl. “Mason saved me from being hit by a cab. That’s how we met.”