Page 66 of The Daddy’s Girl

“Then why?” I plead as I reach for him, only for him to put a hand up to stop me.

“Because we can’t,” he replies. “We can’t, we can’t, we can’t.”

With every echo, he inches closer. By the time he whispers his last we can’t, his mouth is only a breath from mine.

So I do what any normal woman with a beating heart and good sense would do. I latch a hand around his neck and haul his mouth to my lips for a passionate, earth-melting kiss.

Rule #18: When a beautiful woman wants you to seduce her in a sex club, don’t make eye contact with your best friend’s daughter.

Matis

There are hundreds of very good reasons as to why I cannot kiss Amelia. I have spent countless hours in the last two weeks deliberating and obsessing over every single one. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to work out a good enough reason to break these rules.

Until I tasted her lips.

Now this is my reason.

The way she hums delicately into my mouth. The way her lithe frame clings to mine. The ways she furrows her brow and squeezes her eyes shut as we kiss like the feeling is so good it hurts.

Suddenly, all the reasons are nothing but distant murmurs in the back of my mind. As she hangs from my frame, letting me kiss her so deeply it feels as if I’m crawling inside her, her back slams against the closed door. It gives me a surface to press her into with my body, and my hips grind against her of their own accord.

My cock is reaching for what it craves. It’s been desperate for her since the moment she uttered those words: I am a woman with needs and desires.

You don’t think I know this? I have noticed what a woman Amelia has grown into. But it doesn’t make any of this easier. It doesn’t matter that my attraction to her only started this year. It doesn’t matter that I would have rather cut off my own dick before touching her back then. I feel like a deviant all the same.

But her body in my hands now feels like the body of a woman. Her supple curves. Her perky, pebbled breasts. Her ravenous lips and hands.

“Amelia, we can’t—” I start, only to be cut off by the sound of a tapping on the other side of the door.

“Mel? Everything okay?”

Julian’s voice has me leaping away from his little sister as if she is suddenly made of fire. She stares at me wide-eyed as I quickly pace away from her.

We’ve been caught already.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

My back is to the door when Amelia opens it and lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

I turn to find Julian staring at me with rigid skepticism, and I don’t blame him. He suspects something inappropriate. Me taking advantage of her. Hurting her. And to see someone worried for her safety with me is sobering. Not to mention excruciating.

I’m supposed to be the one protecting her. That is my job. My only job.

“I heard the door slam,” he says, looking at her to gauge her expression.

“That was me,” she mutters. “We were just having…an argument.”

“An argument?” he asks.

“It’s my fault,” I interject. “I shouldn’t have invited her date here without her consent, and she’s mad at me. Rightfully so. I will go down there and handle it. I’m sorry, Amelia.”

I’ll give her credit. She holds up the act. Practically growling at me with a scowl as I pass them both by to reach the hallway, I love that she’s working so hard to keep her brother from knowing what we were just doing.

But it doesn’t settle my concerns at all. In fact, it makes them worse because this is the reality of it all. Amelia and I would have to keep our relationship a secret. We couldn’t let people find out—and eventually they would find out.

A relationship? With my goddaughter. What the fuck am I even thinking?

Before I know it, I’m walking down the stairs toward the main level of the club. I glance up to find Olivia and her brother looking impatient at the bar, and I’m swarmed with guilt.