I shouldn’t want to see him again.
But I do.
I want to know what color his eyes are. What his lips look like when he says my name. What that smile sounds like when it’s not filtered through phone lines and fantasy.
I stand slowly and tiptoe back into the house.
I’ll shower off the dirt and sweat and sin from tonight.
But I already know—there’s no washing him off me.
Not now.
Not ever.
* * *
The week rolls by,and now I have two things that keep me going:
Chatting with Thor in the afternoons… and shadowing Daphne at night at the restaurant.
A few times during the week, Itryto tell Daddy about Keith and me—how we’re on a “break.” But every time, he manages to derail the conversation with something heavier: Aunt Miranda’s stress, the bank paperwork, the expansion.
And I let it go, because I’m distracted.
Distracted by Thor.
Our chats have become a daily routine. We don’t alwaysstartwith sexy talk, but somehow we end up there.
It’s the best kind of seduction—the slow burn mixed with unexpected sweetness.
He wants toknowme. Not just undress me.
But the attraction?
It’s combustible.
A kind of pull I’ve never experienced before.
The wildest part? I still haven’t seen his face.
Not once.
* * *
On Sunday,late at night, I’m curled on the couch studying our beer list, trying to memorize the difference between a saison and a sour, when I hear the unmistakable sound of Daddy’s boots thudding down the stairs.
I glance up—and freeze.
He’s holding a shotgun.
“Daddy?” I say. “Is everything okay?”
He exhales through his nose and rubs his eyes. “Thought I heard something rustling outside. And when I saw you weren’t in your bed…” His voice trails off as he walks into the living room and places the shotgun on the mantle.
His eyes catch on something.
The ring.
