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Before I make it two steps, I’m stopped by August calling my name. I turn back to him. The mirth from a moment ago is replaced by a serious expression. His voice is low enough for me to hear without anyone eavesdropping.
“You ever want to talk, you know my number.”
I jerk my chin up in acknowledgement and spin away. August may be my son’s friend, but we have something in common, even if he only suspects that we do. His new girl is his student and is barely eighteen years old. If anyone knows what I’m going through, it would be him. But there’s not a chance in hell I’ll be talking to him or anyone about my Aleah problem.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, I unlock the front door to my house, then hang my keys on the hook in the entryway. I’m bone-tired after working a twelve-hour shift, plus my pit stop at Whiskey’s. What I need now is a hot shower and some shut eye.
Seeing the light on in the living room and figuring Aleah left it on, I head in that direction. It’s late, past midnight, on a school night, so it’s safe to assume she’s in bed. Which, in my current mood, is a good thing.
I start working on the buttons on my shirt as I go. The sooner I get my clothes off and get to my room, the sooner I can shower and hit the sack.
Of course, my night goes from bad to worse, because that’s just my fucking life lately. When I walk into the living room to turn off the light, I find it occupied. By a sight that has my blood rushing south at the same time my temper flares.
Aleah’s lying on the couch on her stomach while she reads a book. Ordinarily that wouldn’t be a problem. But it is now because the only thing she’s wearing is a t-shirt and a pair of panties. What makes it even worse is the shirt has risen up and her panties are the type that only covers half of her ass cheeks.
Fuck my life.
What in the hell did I ever do to God to make him punish me like this?
I stay in the doorway, too afraid to walk in further. I honestly don’t know how much more control I have left with this girl. Even now, my palms twitch to run my hands over the smooth globes of her ass. My mouth waters to bend down and take a bite out of each cheek before dipping my tongue just inside the hem.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the images forming in my head to go away. This is your step-daughter, for fucks sake. I’ve raised her since she was eleven years old, you sick fucking pervert.
Even self-loathing doesn’t make my need go away.
I lock my limbs in place so I don’t march forward and do something I’ll regret.
Clearing my throat, I ask through dry lips. “Are you ever going to do what you're told?”
Aleah yelps and springs up so her ass now sits on the couch, thankfully hiding the all-too tempting sight from my greedy eyes.
“Shit.” Her eyes meet mine as her hand moves to her chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”
My brows draw up. “How many times have I told you to stop wearing shit like that in the house? You’re too old to be walking around in just your shirt and panties.”
A coy look crosses her face as she slowly drops her hand to her bare thigh. It’s not until then that I recognize the shirt she’s wearing. It’s one of my old police academy shirts. It’s so old and tattered there are holes in it. One of which is conveniently, or rather inconveniently, placed over one of her breasts. It’s close to her nipple. Just a slight tug to the right and I’d be able to see the hard tip. Would it be a dusty pink or a muted brown?
I shake my head, pissed that my thoughts keep going to places it shouldn’t.
What in the fuck is wrong with you, Spencer?
“And stop wearing my fucking shirts,” I growl. “It’s inappropriate.”
“Then don’t leave them lying around,” she throws back.
“It’s my goddamn house. I can leave my clothes wherever in the hell I want.”
“Fine.” She shrugs. “If I have to pick up after you, I’ll continue to wear them.”
Fuck, this girl is maddening. Her sole purpose in life is to drain all of my sanity.
“And you know what else?” She continues before I can answer. “I’ll wear what I want.”
“Girl, you’re trying my patience,” I warn, my voice deep and growly.
She has no fucking clue how close I am to snapping. And I’m not sure if either of us will survive if that happens.
