Page 121 of King of Temptation

He couldn’t do this.

In Brody O'Rourke's forty-odd years on earth, he’d faced his own death head-on more times than he could count. Grieved alongside his cousins as they’d dealt with a shared loss greater than most people would ever know. He’d led good men into battle and watched them die at his feet, taken so many lives he’d either be heralded as a hero or a monster, depending on who was doing the recounting.

And still, he’d never feared anything as much as he did the cute little Craftsman-style house looming over him as he parked in the driveway.

“Maybe I should have driven. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

His menace’s cheerful voice did nothing to calm the churning of his stomach as he stabbed at the button on his dash to kill the engine. “I think you might be enjoying this a bit too much, little girl.”

A wide grin bloomed across her face. “Oh, I am enjoying this so much. It’s not every day I get to see my mobster boyfriend terrified of my sweet, doddering old father.”

“Fiancé, not boyfriend. And I’m going to tell him you called him ‘doddering’,” Brody grumbled, shooting her a glare as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

But Goldie’s smile didn’t so much as flicker. “Oh, he’ll get a kick out of that, especially with the context. I can’t wait to tell him he’s struck fear into the heart of one of the⁠—”

Her spiel cut off with a shocked squeak when Brody wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and hauled her to him, so close their noses nearly touched. “I’m starting to think I don’t spank you enough, menace.”

Because they were nose to nose, he had the unmitigated delight of watching her pupils blow as she sucked in a breath. “You just spanked me before we left the house!”

“And clearly I didn’t do a thorough enough job if you’re still feeling this brave. Maybe I should take you upstairs and remind you who I am.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

The truth was, he wouldn’t. At least, not at her father’s house, which likely housed multiple weapons Sergeant Quinn—no, Joe, he was supposed to be calling him Joe now, like that wasn’t fucking weird—wouldn’t hesitate to use against him.

But there was just enough doubt flickering in his babygirl’s golden eyes to tell him she wasn’t quite convinced he wouldn’t indeed drag her upstairs to her old bedroom and blister her ass without a care for who could hear them. And that doubt sparked a fear so delicious he couldn’t resist the urge to tug her closer, to claim her lips with his own.

His menace surrendered immediately, and everything inside him crowed with triumph. Fuck, she was intoxicating. It was so goddamn tempting to slide his hand under that pretty little sundress, up to where he knew she was bare and waiting for him because he’d taken her panties before they’d left the house. No doubt she was already wet, which would make it so easy to⁠—-

A loud knock on the window jolted him out of his daydream and he jerked back to find himself staring at the stern face of his fiancée's father through the passenger window of his car.

Fuck.

Swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in his throat, Brody released his hold on Goldie and reached for the handle of his car door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her doing the same.

“Stay,” he growled, shooting her a warning look that had her glaring right back.

“I can’t open my own door in my own driveway?”

“No.”

Leaving it at that, he climbed out of the car. Either she’d obey and he’d be able to praise her for listening when she didn’t want to, or she wouldn’t and he’d have an excuse to spank her again when they got home.

It was a win-win, as far as he was concerned.

“Evening, Joe,” he called, grateful his voice didn’t waver as he rounded the car to open Goldie’s door for her.

“Evening, O’Rourke.” Something that looked like approval, albeit rather begrudging approval, flickered in the other man’s gaze as Goldie climbed out of the car.

“So formal,” Goldie said with a roll of her eyes, throwing her arms around her father’s neck and squeezing. “You’re basically family, start acting like it.”

Some of the color leached from Joe’s face which actually calmed some of Brody’s nerves. “Family,” he repeated slowly, rolling the word over his tongue as if it were foreign to him.

“Yes.” Sliding an arm around Goldie’s waist, Brody pulled her back toward him, pleased when she immediately snuggled into him. “Just need the ring.”

“I’m not drunk enough for this.” Turning on his heel, Joe stomped back inside, the storm door nearly bouncing off its hinges behind him.