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I rake my hands through my thick hair, turning slightly away from her to face the door jam. “Why do you have to be so fucking difficult? You weren’t like this growing up.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m all grown up now. People change the older they get.”
I barely hold back a sarcastic laugh. She’s definitely grown up. It’s all I’ve noticed for the last six months.
I need to get the hell out of here before I do irrefutable damage. Like tear my fucking shirt from her body, yank off her panties, and fuck her likes she’s a bitch in heat. Or maybe bend her over my knee and give her the ass whooping she needs.
Turning my eyes to her, I set out my demand. “Put some more clothes on and stop wearing mine. I mean it, Aleah. You won’t like the consequences should you continue to push me.”
Spinning away, I get my ass out of that room. My nerves are too raw, and my dick is too goddamn hard to listen to any comebacks she may have.
Just as my foot hits the bottom step, Aleah’s loud voice reaches my ears.
“Yes, Daddy. Whatever you say.”
Gritting my teeth, I keep moving, refusing to acknowledge my body’s reaction to her final words.
I’m fifty fucking years old. I’ve raised a son who’s in his thirties. I deal with criminals every day, and I’ve experienced almost everything an adult my age can experience. I should have no problem dealing with a hard-headed teenager.
Aleah isn’t an ordinary teenager though. She’s somehow buried herself under my skin so fucking deep I honestly wonder if I’ll ever get her out or if she’s there to stay forever.
The last six months have been hell. Partly because my brain has gone haywire and decided to look at Aleah in a whole new light. One that makes her desirable and has me damn near panting after her. And partly because she, herself, has been taunting me with her lightly veiled suggestions and prancing around the house practically naked. Or wearing my fucking shirts.
I don’t know why this change has occurred, but I don’t fucking like it.
Chapter 2
ALEAH
I watch as Spencer leaves the room, pausing for only a moment when I throw out my last taunt. I’ve seen the way he reacts when I call him daddy, so naturally, I do it often to get under his skin.
He’s not really my dad. At one point, when I was younger, I did look at him as a father figure. My real father left when I was two years old, and I haven’t seen him since. Spencer has been the only male parent I’ve ever known, and I’m so grateful for all he’s done for me since he and Mom met years ago.
Do I still look at him as a father? That would be a big no. My feelings for Spencer have morphed into something far more dirty. I don’t know when it started. It’s like I just woke up one day and poof. He was no longer my step-father, but a hot as hell man. One in which I’d very much like to lick all over and have him return the favor.
A needy ache forms between my legs, and I press them together as I watch his retreating back until he disappears upstairs.
Spencer claims that I’m driving him crazy, but it’s he who’s driving me mad.
I know it’s wrong of me to feel like this toward him, and hey, maybe there’s something seriously messed up in my head, but all I can think about when I’m around him now is how it would feel to kiss him. To have his hands on me. To know what it’s like to explore all the dips and valleys of his muscles. To have his fingers and his mouth trace all of my curves.
I bite my lip and close my eyes. I’ve spent many nights with thoughts of him doing naughty things to me. Tonight will be no different.
Grabbing the book I dropped on the floor and my water bottle, I turn off the light as I leave the room. I can still smell him in the hallway, and it for sure does nothing to help my current horny state.
I check the lock on the front door, even though I know Spencer already took care of it, and make my way upstairs. I stop by his bedroom door on the way to mine and press my ear against the wood. No noises come from the other side. I wonder if he’s already in bed, and if so, where his thoughts are.
With the way I’ve been dressing and acting lately, I know he knows of my interest. Take tonight for instance. He was right when he said my clothes were inappropriate. Someone my age living with a single man, even if he is your step-father, should not wear what I was wearing. I did it on purpose, and it wasn’t the first time, and likely won’t be the last. I wanted to see the look on his face when he caught me in his shirt and a pair of skimpy panties. I wasn’t disappointed.
For a moment, I thought he was going to do what I’ve been wanting him to do for a while. Lose his iron-clad control and finally put his hands on me. Unfortunately, Spencer withstood temptation, but he was tempted. I saw it plain as day in his eyes.
I don’t understand why he won’t give in when I know it’s what we both want. He’s a detective, which inherently makes him a good guy. Sleeping with his step-daughter would be very bad in his eyes. It doesn’t help that I’m only seventeen, but that’s about to change in a few days. Once that happens, once I know he can’t legally get in trouble, Spencer won’t know what hit him.
I’ve always been the type to go after what I want, and I want Spencer Erikson.
Once I’m in my bedroom, I drop the book on my nightstand and pull off my shirt and panties. I sleep naked. Not only to push Spencer’s buttons should he come into my room and find me that way, but also because it feels good to do so. I’ve been doing it for a couple of years now, and I’ll never wear clothes to bed again, unless I have to.
The sheets feel amazing against my skin when I slide between them. It helps a little to cool my heated flesh, but there’s only one thing that will make the ache in my body go away.
