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He moves with the lazy power of a jungle cat as he prowls down the stairs, approaching us, his lips a flat line, and his dark eyes seeming somehow angry. He looks me up and down for a long moment before turning to his daughter, and I can’t help but wonder if Fiona warned him I was coming.
He looks like he wants to call the cab back and have me carted straight to the airport.
“Dad, this is Sadie,” she says, once they’ve said their helloes. “Sadie—Dad.”
“H-hello,” I say, inwardly cursing at my stutter. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you so much for letting me stay. This is a wonderful property.”
His gaze continues to bore into me, intense and perplexing.
Why are you looking at me like that? Why do you seem like you hate me already, Mr. Sykes?
His smirk tics.
“Nice to meet you,” he says shortly, making it sound somehow like an insult.Chapter TwoSaulThe fire crackles, filling the main living room with a warm glow, Jasper curled up in front of the flames and snoring contentedly.
I let my eyes roam over Jasper, and the suit of armor in the corner of the room, catching the firelight, the halberd glinting.
And then to my daughter and the snow-encrusted window and anything, anything else, other than Sadie Gold.
Looking at Sadie means feeling it again, the impossible tension that moved through me when I emerged onto the staircase and looked down.
Looked down at her.
Fuck, this is wrong. She’s Fiona’s best friend. She’s twenty years old and I’m forty-one and … Jesus Christ.
I know she’s twenty because she’s the same age as Fiona – she mentioned it on the phone once, in passing – and I try to tell myself that in itself makes this impossible.
This—this what? This feeling, this compulsion.
Fuck.
But even as I try to hammer the message into my mind, I can’t quite accept it.
“Dad, isn’t it crazy how friendly Jasper is with Sadie?” my daughter says, looking up at me from her armchair next to the fire.
Sadie is sitting in the chair opposite her, with me leaning against the wall, arms folded, as though by closing myself away from them I can fight down this burgeoning need inside of me.
Jesus Christ, the second I saw her I knew I had to have her.
Wreathed in mystical snowflakes, she stood at the bottom of those stone steps looking like nothing less than the woman I’d been waiting my whole life for.
Short and with all the curves a man could ever dream of, her hair a luxurious blonde that cascades down to her shoulders, wavy and eye-grabbing, fucking soul-grabbing. Her eyes a stark, sparkling green, and her cheeks flushed red from the cold, blossoming points of red that caused my manhood to flood and throb.
She was dressed in a winter coat and jeans, and yet I could still see the way her hips curved outward, made for childbearing, made to be grabbed as I take her raw and hard and possessively, firing my lava hot seed inside of her.
I need to stop this. I need to stop it now.
“Dad?” Fiona says, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I growl, unable to stop my voice from trembling.
To run my hands through that golden hair, to grip a little tighter, and a little tighter still …
And then to guide those winter cold lips to my bulging manhood and warm them up with my precome, smearing it across like lipstick as she gasps and pants and begs for more, more—
Fuck.
“He must like you,” I say, still looking anywhere but at her.
And yet I see in the periphery of my vision that she glances at me, those forest green eyes wide and full of something. I can’t pinpoint exactly what, perhaps because I refuse to look at her.
Like the sun, I’m afraid she’s going to burn me right up.
“He’s a beautiful dog,” she says. “How old is he?”
“Three,” I tell her. “I … got him when he was four months old.”
“Dad,” Fiona says, rolling her eyes. “Do you really have to be so annoyingly humble all the time?”
“What?” Sadie asks.
Even her voice sends primal instincts coursing through me, my heart like a beast in my chest trying to break out of the cage of my ribs, hammering with claws and teeth and snout, growling, howling.
Take her, fuck her, put your seed in her womb where it belongs and give Fiona a little brother or sister.
“Dad rescued Jasper and a few other dogs from Marchway—that’s the closest town over. He was in the bar when he overheard these men talking about it. So he followed them and found this basement full of stolen puppies and dogs, and he, well … Let’s just say the dogs went free and the men ended up in prison with a few cuts and bruises.”
“Anybody would’ve done the same,” I grunt.
