I take a seat next to her, and she shuffles closer to me, I’m assuming to get another sniff, and almost climbs into my lap when my hands dart out to stop her. “Whoa, okay, Liv,” I say, standing now, making sure she doesn’t fall off the couch. Then I quickly realize she’s in my sofa bed, so I reach down to take her hand. “Let’s get you to bed.”
She hums, like she’s considering it. Then she gives me a wicked smile before she whispers, “Yes, Daddy.”
My knees nearly buckle. It’s a joke, I know that, but the sultry tone of her voice… my mind went somewhere very, very wrong.
“Olivia.”
She scrunches her nose, and her smile grows, slow and smug. “Oh, full-naming me, Daddy? Kinky.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face. I know she’s drunk, but man oh man, I’m never going to live this down. First fake husband, now Daddy, what will she think of next?
She’s clearly pleased with herself, and burrows deeper into the blanket like she didn’t just try to short-circuit my brain. I stand there for a second, watching her settle into my pillow like it’s hers, and I’m still trying to catch up with the fact that she’s in my bed at all. How in the name of all things good in the world does she look so fucking cute right now after going on a bender?
I clear my throat, trying to find some version of authority. “Alright. If you’re taking my bed, I’m taking yours.” Or technically mine again, since her bed isn’t here yet.
She lifts her head a little, brows pulling together in mock confusion. “You’re not joining me?”
I apologize to all the hookup gods but… “No, Liv, I’m not.”
She pouts at that, the real kind—bottom lip soft and full, eyes all glossy and dramatic. “Rude. You tuck me in, talk all deep like that, get my heart rate up, and then leave me?”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t weaponize your pout.”
“Don’t weaponize your voice,” she shoots back.
The corner of my mouth twitches, but I don’t let it turn into a smile. I don’t move, either. I just stand there, studying her in the dim light, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the way her eyes glint under lowered lashes, the crimson flush across her cheeks from too much vodka and whatever she’s pretending not to feel. I don’t know if it’s the blanket or the look she’s giving me or the fact that she’s inmybed, but something in the air feels alive.
“Wonder what it’ll take to get you into a girl’s bed…”
I lean down, unable to resist her curiosity. My arm rests just above her head on the sofa, and I let my eyes drop to her lips for a second and catalogue the slightest part of her mouth and the rise of her throat as she swallows.
“If I ever actually get into your bed, Olivia,” I say quietly, my voice even despite the adrenaline that’s spiking, “you’ll know exactly what I’m there for.”
Her smile falters, but she covers it with a soft, teasing exhale as she tucks herself tighter into the duvet. I straighten, turning off the lamp and backing toward the door, even as my pulse thrums hard.
“Sleep well, Liv.”
But before I reach the threshold, her voice follows me in the dark…
“Night, Daddy.”
I stop walking. Turn just enough to see her barely stifling a grin under the blanket.
“Olivia.”
“Yes, say it again,” she moans, loud enough to be inappropriate but dramatic enough to be fake. At least I tell myself that as I pinch the bridge of my nose, close the door behind me, and head for her bed, jaw tight and thoughts alreadyspiraling to places I know I have no business going because I fucking forgot that everything in here now smells like her.
And yeah, I’m not getting any sleep either.
Chapter fifteen
Liv
Isthereanyneedfor a hangover? Alcohol is always a good idea at the time, but a cruel mistress. Something is buzzing near my head, and I need it to stop immediately. But even reaching my arm up feels like hell. Then a rush of air surrounds me, but it’s not cold, it’s warm and harbors a scent that I’m becoming all too familiar with.
One of my eyes creaks open like a rusted door hinge, accurate for how I’m feeling. “Jay?” I croak, voice sandpaper, praying he’s not witnessing the state of me right now.
“Morning, Liv,” he replies, voice deep and way too soothing for someone whose face I can’t quite focus on yet. If he read me my monster books in that tone, I’d probably agree to marry him on the spot.
