I walk fully into the living room and school my face as I lower myself onto the couch, pulse ringing at that simple contact.
Sophie eyes me, still smiling. I rest my hand lightly against her back, warm through the knit of her sweater. “You look different, Soph. Happy,” I say softly, not wanting to put pressure on her but needing to say it.
Her grin falters, just for a breath, before she nods. “Yeah, Dad. I’m happy.”
But the hesitation echoes in me long after she turns back to the screen. In my head, I still see the fragile child I swore I’d keep safe no matter what. That promise hasn’t changed.
And Jasmine is the pulse that keeps it all alive. With the two of them here, life is better than I ever thought it could be.
From the kitchen, she shouts, “You two look cozy.”
Sophie snorts, tossing popcorn at me and missing. “Not without you. Come on, Jazz, hurry up before Dad ruins the mood with his grumpy commentary.”
She returns with a bowl of pretzels and a crooked smile, then sinks down on the couch beside me, close enough that her thigh brushes mine under the blanket Sophie pulls over all three of us.
My hand twitches on the cushion, aching to lace my fingers through Jasmine’s. I don’t dare, with Sophie right there. But soon enough, I will tell her the truth.
That I’m in love with her best friend and that I’m going to make her mine forever.Ours forever.
Sophie adores Jasmine and there’s a tiny possibility that she might hate me for setting my sights on her young best friend. But a part of me hopes that she’ll see how much of a goner I am for Jasmine. That she’ll be happy for us.
I feel Jasmine’s warm curves against me, and for tonight, it’s enough.
The second movieis already rolling when I blink awake, the flicker from the plasma screen painting the room in sharp, jagged light. Sophie’s gone—her blanket folded on the armchair, her bedroom door down the hall shut.
But Jasmine’s still here.
She’s curled into my side, cheek pressed warm against my chest, her breath fanning through my shirt. My arm is heavy around her shoulders, like it’s belonged there all along.
For a moment, I just breathe her in. Vanilla shampoo, warm skin, the faint sweetness that clings to her. Then the actress on-screen lets out a scream, long and high-pitched—but hell if it sounds scared.
Jasmine stirs, lashes fluttering as she blinks up at me. Perfect timing.
“Hello, sweetheart,” I say, the sight of her sleep-mussed eyes and her parting lips turning me on. Fuck, this girl revs me up faster than a shot of adrenaline.
“Hi, Mr. Grayson,” she whispers, voice husky. Her eyes search the room, then come back to me. The sudden hitch of her breath as her gaze lingers on my lips, I know that my filthy girl is right where I am.
I lower my mouth to her ear, my lips brushing her hair. My voice is a low rumble as I nod at the screen. “Tell me I’m not the only one who thinks she sounds more turned on than terrified. Maybe she’s in the wrong kind of movie.”
Her cheeks flush pink even in the shifting light, and she hides her face against me. Then she whispers, husky, “Or maybe she’s one of those girls who’s spent years having wet dreams about the villain. Or a man she shouldn’t want.”
My cock twitches at that, hard and instant. Jesus.
The next scream from the speakers slices through the quiet, shadows cutting jagged across her face. The blanket is still bunched over our laps from earlier, and now it feels like cover. An invitation to act out my filthy desires right there in the living room.
I slip my hand under it, finding the bare line of her thigh. The thin cotton of her shorts gives me nothing, no barrier at all. I groan and whisper. “Wearing those short shorts again like the perfect little slut, are you, baby girl? So convenient and perfect since Daddy wants a snack.”
Her legs shift restlessly, her chest twisting and pressing into my side. The drag of her pert nipples turns my cock into steel.
“Yes, Daddy. So that you can access this pussy whenever you want. Like a free-use slut, just for you.”
My curse is soft and dirty. My fingertips graze higher, and heat blooms under my palm, damp and slick. “You’re wet already,” I murmur against her hair. My teeth graze her temple as my fingers stroke through her folds. “What a little slut you are. Falling asleep and rubbing that tight little body against your boss, your best friend’s dad. Driving me crazy.”
She shivers, nails sinking lightly into my forearm as if she can steady herself. It only makes her tremble harder.
I circle her again, slower this time, until her head tips back, lips parting on a gasp.
“Quiet,” I warn, capturing the sound with my mouth before it escapes. She tastes sweet and hot, her muffled moan humming into me as I slide two fingers inside her, curling until she clenches tight around me.
