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“Maybe,” Sadie says, glancing at me again, biting her lip in a half-shy, half-brave way that has my manhood pulsing at the base. “But not everybody could have, Mr. Sykes.”
“Call me Saul,” I say before I can stop myself.
She shouldn’t call me Saul.
She shouldn’t call me anything.
I should send her far away from this house before I do something I’ll regret before I fall upon her like the feral beast she’s already turning me into. Before I press up behind her and grind my rock hard manhood against those lovable buns she has for ass cheeks, round and grab-me-now sexy, the sort of ass cheeks I could spend hours exploring with my hands and tongue, making her shiver and tingle in anticipation before sliding down to her soaked, needy hole—
Before I know it, I’m moving toward the door, my fists clenched tightly.
“Dad?” Fiona calls after me. “Where’re you going?”
“You don’t want your old dad hanging around, spoiling the atmosphere,” I mumble, hardly hearing the words.
I walk down the hallway, clenching my fists so hard I can feel the sinews in my forearms pulsing and tugging.
I end up in my study, a large room lined with a towering bookcase on one side, a trophy cabinet on the other, and a big flat-screen TV where I review racing tapes.
I pace to the window and look out on the rear garden, the fountain frozen, the world already falling dark despite the early hour.
My eyes refocus and I stare at my reflection, at this man whose every desire is already tuned to Sadie, to my daughter’s best friend.
I see the tension in my jaw and the flaring need in my eyes.
I clench my jaws and turn away, definitely not thinking about the way she gazed at me wide eyed, the sexy-as-hell way she bit her lip.
Yes, yes, I’m not thinking about her on her knees, biting her lip before she opens her mouth wide for me, ready to take my throbbing manhood.
Or bent over my desk, those curvy hips screaming for my hands, shifting side to side, wriggling her hips, tempting me to grab her juicy meaty ass and lose my hands there, bury them in her fuck-me-now flesh, take her, own her, dominate her—
Fuck.
I let out a growling, shivering breath.
No, I’m definitely not thinking about that.
Nor would I.
She’s my daughter’s best friend.
Nothing more.
But even as I try to assure myself of this, a voice mutters in my mind, sardonic and knowing.
Keep telling yourself that, it says.Chapter ThreeSadie“I told you he was a bit grumpy,” Fiona says, a loving smile touching her lips. “I’m surprised he even hung out with us, to be honest. He spends most of his time in his study reviewing racing tapes when he’s not out teaching.”
“I don’t mind,” I say, remembering the way he seemed not to be able to look at me.
Why?
Confusion whirls through me when I try to pinpoint why he wouldn’t want to look at me, as though I’ve made him angry in some way I don’t understand.
And then more confusion knives into me when these thoughts rise unbidden into my mind, of Saul Sykes slowly unbuttoning his shirt, showing me inch upon inch of his carved, honed flesh. Then he’d lean down and his breath would whisper warmly over my skin, making me tingle, making my sex ache and pulse with the closeness.
Now I’m the one who can’t look at anyone.
I stare into the flickering flames instead of looking at my best friend.
This. Is. Wrong.
An absurd part of me debates voicing my attraction. Perhaps we’ll laugh about it. But reason tells me that what’s most likely to happen is Fiona will be completely freaked out and she’ll tell me that she can’t be friends with me anymore, that the thought of being like sisters with somebody who would fantasize about her father when she’s sitting right there makes her sick.
And she’d have every right to.
“Goldilocks?” Fiona says.
“Yeah?” I say, forcing my gaze to her, glad for the crackling closeness of the fire, because then at least I have some excuse for this blush spreading across my cheeks.
“I asked if you wanted some cocoa,” she says.
“Oh.” I force a smile. “Sure, that’d be nice.”
She leaves the room and Jasper rises up and yawns, stretching out his black spotted white body, and then he curls up again and starts snoring softly. I try to focus on how cute and majestic he is, but Saul keeps intruding on my mind.
Please stop, I tell whatever force inside of me is propelling the lust filled vignettes. This isn’t right.
And yet even as I turn back to the fire, the flames dance and contort into shapes of Saul. I see his fiery gaze searing into me as I lie on my back, waiting for him, his jaw tight with impossible desire now instead of rage.
