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“Try nothing,” she corrects. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents to death, but I still wonder, you know?”
“Why don’t you just ask them?”
“I guess I don’t want to seem like an asshole? They did everything for me, and here I am, wanting to know more about the dirtbags who gave me up.” She pauses. “Well, technically, my mom died, so she couldn’t take care of me, but my dad didn’t exactly scour the planet to find me.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know.”
“Is it bad that I hope you’re right?” She chews on her bottom lip, and my dick jerks in my pants.
Fucking hell, I thought I had this whole “stop imagining her tits bouncing in my face” thing nailed down.
Clearly, I was wrong.
“Nah. If he knew, he’s a shitbag who abandoned his daughter. If he didn’t, there’s hope,” I reassure her.
She smiles a grateful smile, as though she needed the validation that she’s not a terrible person. Funny thing is, she’s the least terrible person I’ve ever met.
The sun is near rising, the sky a blend of pink, orange, and red. We spend the next minute watching Mother Nature do her thing.
“You said something earlier…” Her voice is shaky, as though whatever she’s about to say scares the crap out of her. “That shit is no fun unless it almost kills you?”
I nod.
She inhales a sharp breath to keep her anxiety in line. “Is that why you kissed me? That night in the wine cellar? Because I taste like poison?”
Fair question, but I’m a tad shocked that she had the guts to bring it up.
“I kissed you because you’re the only fucking thing that doesn’t…”
Her mouth trickles open at my admission.
“Wait, are you saying absolutely nothing brings you joy?”
“I’m saying the things that bring me joy also bring me guilt.”
I assume her newfound courage has run out until she places her trembling hand on my stomach and sucks in a quivery breath.
“Even this?”
I’m positive I’m dreaming when her fingers slip toward my crotch. My gaze connects with hers, the promises I made myself about never touching her again bursting into flames.
Technically, she’s the one touching me.
That doesn’t count, does it?
Her cheeks are bright red, her pupils are dilated, and her chest is moving up and down at an alarming pace.
She wants this.
My dick swells up when she starts playing with the waistband of my pants.
No. Fucking. Way.
I said I was done.
That she was too good, too pure for me.
That she didn’t deserve to be broken.
