CHAPTER5
Mike
I’m just finishing piping the last frosting petal on the last rose on her birthday cake when she comes into the kitchen.
“Oh my goodness,” she chirps, pressing her hand to her chest. “You…bake?”
Awww yeah, I do. My fondant is the fucking bomb. But I fucking love the surprise in her voice, the flush in her cheeks. Truth is, I’ve been prepping for her 18th for a year, minimum. But when I bought my first set of frosting pipettes, I had no fucking clue how bad I’d want her now.
“I’ve got all kinds of secret talents.”
Her eyes flash. She presses her lips together. Her cute pink-painted toes wiggle on the tile floor. “But doing frosting roses. Mike. Seriously?”
I slide my eyes up and down her body. She’s wearing comfortable clothes now, sun-kissed from being out in the pool this afternoon. Her hoodie is zipped up just to the best part of her cleavage. That little zipper is just begging to be undone. With my teeth.
“You sounded great. You’re going to knock it out of the park.”
She smiles a little, picks up an apple from the fruit bowl but then glances at the time and puts it down.
“Eat the fucking apple if you’re hungry.”
She shakes her head and puts it back in the bowl. “You’ve made dinner, too, I think. I can smell it.”
I nod taking in every succulent inch of her as she stands in my kitchen all eighteen and ripe for picking.
“Your favorites. Sam said you didn’t have a party or anything and I fucking hated hearing that. It’s not every day a girl turns 18. Not every day a girl becomes a woman…”
She blinks quickly, watching me close. The words hang there in the space between us. Because age is one thing. But only I can really make her a woman. I’m going to make her a woman. Deep dick her until she knows just how long I’ve waited for her.
Fuck. The need to claim her is so strong, it almost knocks me back. I shouldn’t be thinking this way. I should not be thinking this way. But she’s there. And I’m here. And I want her so fucking much I’m going to explode.
She looks away, breaking the tension. Her eyes land on the table, set for two. “Did you know Sam would be gone for dinner tonight?”
Fucking right I did. His mom planned this conference months ago. But I don’t answer. Sometimes, silence is the best thing of all.
She takes a step closer. “I can tell the answer is yes. Isn’t it?”
Now I can smell her. And she smells like lilacs again. Goddamn it, this woman. She’s setting me on fire from the inside out. “You should go get changed for dinner.”
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 wearingthis 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.