Page 36 of Pucking Daddy

I’m in my room, trying to wind down.

But my thoughts won’t settle. I try reading. Then a movie. Nothing sticks. My mind keeps circling, restless.

I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, wide awake.

The way he looked at Lily.

The way he held her.

The way he said her name.

A slow exhale leaves me.

Why can’t he just be the asshole I thought he was?

But I was wrong. There’s more to this man than meets the eye.

I roll onto my side, dragging the blanket up with me like it might somehow ground me.

It doesn’t.

Because the second my mind quiets even a little, my body betrays me.

And in my head, I hear his voice.

Low.

Rough.

“Zara.”

Heat curls low in my stomach before I can stop it.

“Seriously?” I mutter into the darkness.

I shove the pillow over my head.

This is ridiculous.

I am not doing this.

I am not lying here thinking about my boss like some hormonal teenager.

I have self-control.

I have standards.

I—

My breath catches.

Because apparently, my body did not get that memo.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to redirect, to think about literally anything else.

Grocery lists.

Schedules.