My dad sips his coffee, which I happen to know is light and sweet and utterly delicious. Like a donut in a cup. “You’re going to be fine, sweetheart. No matter what. How about I talk to Mike, real quick.”
I glance at the door. “I’m still in bed, Dad. Why don’t you just call him?”
“I tried, but he’s got it on Do Not Disturb.”
I growl into the pillow and then roll out of bed. I get a quick glance of myself in the mirror. Do I look cute? Is an old 2019 Carolina Youth Symphony tank and mismatched girl-boxers cute? I have no clue. At all.
Mistake.
It doesn’t matter.
I place my hand on the knob, open the door, and almost drop my phone.
Because there’s Mike. Waiting. Looking dreamy, and sexy, and vaguely like he’s been eavesdropping on my every word. Which I find extremely hot, for reasons I can’t even begin to puzzle together this early in the day.
Everything about him pulls me powerfully toward him. Like a magnet. Like I’m a moon in his orbit. His jawline, his eyes, the way his muscles ripple under his tee-shirt. And I don’t even begin to look below his beltline. I’m dimly aware of gym shorts. I’m such a goner.
My face flushes hot, and I realize there’s a very real possibility I have those awful little makeup globs in the corners of my eyes. I shove my phone toward him.
“My dad. For you,” I say, and spin away, stomping back to bed, rubbing my eyes as I do.
He clicks his tongue to get my attention and I shoot a glance back at him. And for one beautiful second, he holds my gaze, looking protective. And handsome. And apologetic.
And it just makes my whole entire body ache.
But his words from last night ring clear and nasty in my ears. That was a fucking mistake. I snap my gaze away from him and stomp back toward the bed. But I’ve barely begun to move before he grabs my hand, yanks me toward him, and shoves me powerfully up against the wall.
Whoosh goes the air from my lungs. And when I suck in a new breath, it’s all him. Soap, and cologne, and his delicious masculine warmth underneath.
“Yeah, Ben, I’m here,” Mike says, grinding against my hips with his rock-hard cock, with his thighs, with his power. I suppress a groan, desperate not to let my dad hear, and desperate not to let Mike know just how much I want him.
“She’s good. You know that. Don’t let Janet’s bullshit wind you up, yeah? Just focus on your issues there and man, if you need me to help with anything…”
I hear my dad talking on the other end of the line. The tone shifts, now to work. Something something settlement, something something liability.
Mike makes all the right noises, says all the right yeahs and nos. But he’s as distracted by me as I was by him when I was on the phone with my mom earlier. This thing between us, it is all-consuming. It is so intense that it makes it hard to even breathe.
Mistake. I avert my eyes, feeling angry and rejected, furious still, but he tries to distract me with soft touches of his rough fingers on my cheek. As soon as he touches me, my pussy gushes with wetness. My heartbeat becomes clearer; I can feel it behind my eyes, in my fingertips, in my belly.
He cages me in tighter, slipping his free hand down my body. Down my stomach, past my waistband. But for as much as I want him, for as desperate as I am for his touch, I am also so stinking angry. How dare he make me cum, how dare he cum for me, and then leave me standing in his freaking dining room, with my heart on my sleeve, feeling vulnerable and ashamed. What an ass.
I snatch his hand away and shake my head, setting my teeth. No, I mouth at him. No.
That word, it ignites something in him. I can feel his body change, his intensity strengthens. Like I’ve said the thing he never wanted to hear. Or maybe that he always needed to hear.
And then Mike locks eyes with me. Angry now. Livid.
Dangerous.
Wetness spills from inside me. I like the danger. I like this fear. Maybe it’s because I’ve led a sheltered life. Maybe it’s because I’m a stupid little girl who doesn’t know what to do with a man like him.
But either way, I’m afraid. Desperately afraid of what comes next. Because I’ve pissed him off now. And I can just feel I’m about to pay for it.
“I gotta go, man,” Mike says, all dark and growly. “I’ve got a fucking situation unfolding here. And it’s going require my full attention.”
He ends the call, tossing his phone onto my bed. And as he does, in that split-second when he’s shifted his eyes away from me, I shove him away with all my strength...
…and run.