Page 17 of My Ex’s Dad

Oh, fuck.

I catch my lower lip in my teeth and ride out another wave of emotion. The high of being so thoroughly fucked last night still lingers, but worry creeps in. The shock won’t fade, and as I watch him sleep and question what I did in the heat of the moment, I can’t stand the flush of shame rising in me.

I moved on from Roman to his father.

It’s an upgrade, but so naughty.

I should be burning up with shame. Embarrassed to the nth degree. But my God…

Refusing to let guilt spoil it now, in the cold light of the morning after, I can’t let myself cringe and cling to the belief that what we shared last night is wrong.

It felt too good. Too right. It was spontaneous, unplanned—and so real.

And not wrong. It couldn’t be a sin or mistake when he proved that I’m not frigid or broken to come with a man. It can’t be so bad when I can still feel the phantom touches that made me let go and embrace a one-of-a-kind bliss that only powerful orgasms can give a girl.

I lick my lip and make peace with the shock of it. The surprise that I slept with my ex’s father. Refusing to let guilt spoil it in the light of the morning after, I decide to move on. So it happened. That doesn’t mean I need to stick around and face reality with him. To explain any of it.

Because he doesn’t know.

He didn’t tell me his last name, and I assumed he was just someone who worked for the family. But I told him who I was. I introduced myself fully, and still, there was no recognition on his face.

Because he doesn’t know.

Roman never let me meet his actual family.

I’ve been under the impression that Roman kept me as a dirty secret, the girlfriend he was never proud to call his. Because of that choice, I never met his parents, knowing only that they’re divorced and his father is the head of the organization.

Not just a usual business.

A mafia empire.

I swallow hard, imagining how many women would kill to be in my place, in this bed with Anton Sokolov. Biting my lip again, I go a little frantic trying to pull myself out of this. I can’t stay.

I can’t begin to imagine how he’d react if he were to realize he’d fucked his son’s ex. Or if he’d care.

It’ll remain a mystery. It has to. Because I’m not changing my mind. I’m too hooked on controlling my own life, calling the shots, and being fully independent to be able to help my family when they need me. I’m through with letting a man have power over me and being in charge, and this man, Anton Sokolov, the leader of the city’s biggest and most ruthless mob, represents nothing but power.

Easing back slowly, I gingerly slip free of the lopsided embrace we shared as we slept.

I’ll dwell on the night-and-day differences between father and son some other time.

Right now, I need to go. To bolt and be out of here before he wakes up.

I make it to the edge of the bed, about to lift the covers to slip out. Holding my breath and tensing as I watch him sleep, I’m almost free.

That’s when he stirs and wakes up. Instantly, he spots me, and he’s even quicker to clue in to the fact that I’m trying to run.

He grunts, more a sound of surprise and annoyance than an actual word. It’s sexier than it should be. His sleepy face is too endearing. But as he shoots his arm out and hooks it around my waist, I can tell that even half-awake, he’s fully coiled with power and determination.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks as he hauls me right back into bed with him. The covers are rumpled between us, but they’re no barrier against his hot, naked body flush with mine.

Oh, shit.

Just like that, I’m turned on all over again.

“I was just going to head out.”

He arches one eyebrow. “No, you’re not.”