“Need some help?” I murmur.
His back muscles ripple at the sound of my voice.
He glances behind me to determine if I’m alone, his thick chest rising and falling.
I’m positive he’s going to tell me to leave. But then, “Come in here.”
four
Jason
At thirty-six,I should be making better choices.
Instead, I’m inviting this half-dressed college freshman into my bedroom. It’s none of my business what she wears to this party tonight, but goddammit…I don’t even really want her to go in the first place. Which is fucking absurd. She’s in school, just like Emma. The social aspect of college is part of the experience. Sure, I never had that experience myself, because I had to work two jobs after fathering a baby so young.
But I want those good times for Emma.
The idea of Shea at a party, though? With her big, innocent eyes and lethal body?
Nah, I don’t like it. In fact, I’m feeling downright territorial of this girl I only met tonight, wanting to cover her up in my clothes. Send her out smelling like me. Looking like she’s got a man. That’s why I’m looking for the most obviously male-owned sweatshirt in my closet.
“Come in here,” I say, with a little more force than intended.
Her eyelids seem to grow heavy in response, her body swaying slightly. “Yes, sir,” she whispers, padding in my direction, her bare feet sinking into my area rug. I can hear my daughter talking a million miles an hour on the phone down the hallway, but the odd pound of my heart nearly drowns her out, because wow.
I can’t pretend I haven’t noticed something.
Shea likes being told what to do.
Told when to eat.
When to enter the room.
She reacts like a flower being watered.
Yes, sir.
She stops in front of me, both of us in the shadow my closet door. Her head is tilted back on account of our height difference of more than a goddamn foot. If this was a fantasy and not real life, I’d lean down and kiss her now. What would it be like to kiss such a young woman? The kissing I did at her age has been blurred by the passage of time, so I have no idea how her mouth would feel.
Fresh and inexperienced, whispers the destructive part of my brain.Eager.
This is real life, not a fantasy. I willnotkiss her.
But lord, I can’t help wanting to get a better look. At all of her.
Maybe just the slightest touch of that supple skin.
“There’s a folded gray sweatshirt on the top shelf,” I say, my voice gravelly with the weight of my growing arousal. “Reach up and get it.”
Again, I notice how she flushes happily at being told what to do. “Okay.” Biting her sexy bottom lip, she presses onto her tip toes and strains to reach the high shelf, even jumping a couple of times in an attempt to retrieve the sweatshirt, her tits bouncing and jiggling in that flimsy tank top. It’s a miracle that I don’tunload come down the leg of my sweatpants watching her whine in frustration, jumping and reaching to no avail.
“Do you want a boost?” I ask, finally, sidestepping to tower over her from behind.
“Yes, please,” she whispers.
I know I’m about to cross the line of propriety, but for the life of me, I can’t stop my greedy hands from settling on her trim waist, squeezing. Running my palms down to her hips and dragging them back up beneath the hem of her tank top.
Son of a bitch, I’ve never touched anything or anyone so soft in my life.
