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Before I know it, I’m crying, and I wipe away my tears with frustrated fingers, huffing out a moan before staring up at the ceiling.
“You okay?” Kevin asks from behind me, his voice softer now.
I don’t even turn back. Instead, I walk into the room and shut the door behind me.
I’m so over his fucking mood swings.
8
Kevin
I want Shelby so badly. There, I’ve said it.
I do—I want her in my bed, her legs wrapped around my waist as she writhes on top of me. I want to hear her gasps in my ear, her tongue in my mouth.
But most of all, I want her in my arms. I want her to know that it’s okay, that Finlay won’t bother her anymore, that men won’t hit on her when I’m there without consequence. Damn.
I’m struggling.
I’ve not felt like this in so long…the yearning to explore what else could be between us, not when I know it’s probably in my head.
Shelby won’t want a relationship with me—she’ll want a good fuck, and at least I can say I’ve still got that going for me.
But I can’t do that with Ivy’s best friend—imagine that.
Poor Ivy.
I’m herdad.
Girls talk about that stuff too, and fuck me—I don’t want my Ivy hearing about anything like that when it comes to me.
I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror, and even though I look old enough to be her dad, I don’t fucking feel it.
But how I’ve not caved is beyond me.
Shelby has pranced around all night in that tiny fucking dress, flirted with me to the extremities, and is now in my daughter’s old bedroom crying.
I feel like shit because I can’t comfort her, but it’s not my place.
You could, though. There’s only you and her here.
I try to ignore the devil on my shoulder as he whispers in my ear, but he continues regardless.
Ivy isn’t in town anymore.
My head aches with the weight of this fucking problem, yet I could solve it withjust one fuck.
Then she’d stop.
Or would she?
Either way, I can’t risk it.
“Uh, Kev?”
I nearly jump out of my skin when Shelby mumbles that from behind me, her voice small.
“Yeah?”
