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I smile and give Molly a nod, trying not to appear awkward. “I believe we’ve already met. She’s the new model at my agency. I thought there was something familiar about her earlier,” I say, stifling a laugh.
How stupid could I be not to notice the similarities? I mean, Trish has brown hair, Molly has blonde hair with vibrant blue eyes, but otherwise, the resemblance is uncanny —their figures are the same, and their voices and inflections are strikingly similar.
“She looks more like her father than she does me.” Trish laughs and hugs me tight as my attention shifts to Molly. I notice that she’s smiling at me, almost daring me to flirt with her now. I know that I’m playing with fire, but I can’t stop what’s already begun between Molly and I… despite her being my stepdaughter.
3
MOLLY
We have dinner together, but it’s cut short by my mother’s friends when they call and ask h
er to join them for a celebration. I’m not sure what they’re celebrating because I’m preoccupied with Mr. Andrew’s discomfort. He keeps glancing surreptitiously from me to my mother.
My heart beats a little faster as I realize I am seriously crushing on my stepfather right now. When I left the parking lot, I didn’t realize we were both heading for the same place. But who would have?
I kind of figured that maybe he was just the type of boss who would follow me to see where I lived… I suspected he was looking for a hookup. Now, as my eyes catch on him from time to time, I can feel the heat between my legs intensifying. I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to kiss him, to touch him.
I know that neither of us will tell my mother about what happened at the agency today. We would be dumb to say anything other than work was good, just as it’s always been for Mr. Andrews.
“I’m sorry that I’m heading out like this. Dean will show you around the place. It’s rather large, and we do have a butler, but he can still show you where to put your things. I’m so glad you’re here,” my mother tells me, giving me a soft hug.
Odd. It’s as if my mother is playing some game of pretending she cares about me when she and I both know there’s no bond. I’m only here temporarily, just long enough to save to get back out on my own. Matter of months, if that.
I don’t get up from the chair as I hug her back. She kisses the top of my head, and I watch her kiss Dean’s cheek before heading out the front door. Their affection seems scripted. Almost as if they’re just going through the motions vs. showing their emotions.
And now, it’s just the two of us.
I think about going to put the dinner dishes away, just anything to give me a distraction. But before I can, a maid sweeps into the room to do just that. She clears the table and gives us a smile.
Dean doesn’t introduce us, but I return a soft smile as she turns to take the dishes to the kitchen.
“Would you like to see your room?” Dean asks, clearing his throat. His eyes still hold the same lustful look that they had at the agency. He wants me, I’m sure of it. I have a pretty big feeling he wants a little more from me than just being his sweet little step-daughter.
“Lead the way.” I say happily, as I rise up from the chair and go over to grab my bags from the hallway that leads into the living room.
I follow him up two grand flights of stairs and down the open hall. Pictures hang perfectly every foot or so apart on the light-gray walls. It’s something you’d see in a celebrity home, something on the latest edition of INSIDER.
He opens the third door down for me, standing so close that I have to brush up against him to get into the room. I swallow back the moan that threatens to escape me.
“I can’t believe that I’ve hit on my own stepdaughter,” he murmurs as he enters. I giggle at him, giving my lip a bite as I try to contain my giddiness.
Get it together, Molly.
“I know, silly, isn’t it?” I ask him, feeling my heart race as he steps closer.
He stands in front of me, placing his rather large hands on my shoulders, consuming them with his palm. But when he opens his mouth to speak, his eyes drift down to my breasts pressed tight against my blouse.
I know he wants to see what’s underneath. I can see it in his eyes.
He’s pretty damn obvious about it I’ll say.
“Mr. Andrews, what would you like me to do with the laundry?” We hear the maid in my doorway ask, and I jump back, wondering what the hell would’ve just happened if she hadn’t just shown up.
I feel feral. I want to attack him and have animalistic sex with him. I can see that the attraction is mutual. There’s no denying that.
I need to cool myself off, and I don’t have the slightest clue how I’m going to do that. I think about the dressing room and how much he wanted me there. I had him hard as hell, or at least so it seemed; but certainly before I knew he’s my freaking step-dad. Now that I know, I feel naughty because I’m still craving his touch on me.
“You can put it aside downstairs. I will address it later. Take the rest of the evening off, Ms. Clarkson. I am fine here without your assistance,” I hear him tell her. He’s quite rude to her, but I can see the annoyance on his face at how she interrupted us, which makes the fire inside me burn even hotter.
