I fight back a laugh—it was a post-it note stuck to her door and far from a formal invitation by any stretch of the imagination.
She peeks up at me and winks.
Fuck. Me.
“Happy Birthday, Chloe. How old are you? Thirty-one, Thirty-two—?”
“I’m only six!” my youngest protests, giggling wildly, but I’m still reeling from the wink she’d just sent my way. Dammit, this girl is Dangerous with a capital D.Double fuuuckkk.
When she straightens, her gaze drops to my chest and the spreading stain of coffee, and her eyes go wide. “Did you miss?”
A bark of laughter erupts from my throat, and I shake my head before stepping back and dragging both Bailey and Chloe with me to let Princess in. “No, Chlo screeched like a banshee when she saw you coming it scared the shit out of me.”
She grins impishly, that dimple at the corner of her mouth making its thought-stealing appearance. She steps through the door and I close it, the action forcing me to lean indecently close as I do it. Her quick inhale makes my dick surge to life, that quiet drag of her breath the most erotic thing I’ve heard in far too long.
“Let me just go change shirts,” I stammer, breaking away from the tangle of bodies just inside the door. “Girls, remember your manners while I’m gone.”
“Yes, Dad,” Bailey says, and I watch as they each take one of Princess’ hands, dragging her toward the kitchen counter and the barstools that line one side of it. “We’ve been waiting for forever to eat the cake! We wanted to wait for you!”
Halfway down the short hall, I raise one hand to the back of my neck, pulling the coffee-stained t-shirt up and over my head as I keep walking. Turning into my bedroom, I glance back down the hall toward where the trio of girls are.
Princess is standing just on the other side of the kitchen counter between my girls, eyes wide and trained on my bare upper body, pink lips parted. My fucking dick is getting harder by the second, and then her eyes snap up to mine and hold for several heartbeats too long to be appropriate.
The blush that stains her cheeks is light, but the lust in those green eyes… fuck. I haven’t had someone look at me like that in way too long.
Jesus Christ, what did I do in a past life to deserve to be tortured like this?
Is this a set up? Did Britt send this little siren here to tempt me? Knowing I damn well can’t take the bait, no matter how fucking badly I might want to take a bite of that ass?
I absolutely can’t get caught with my hand inthatfucking cookie jar—especially with someone as young as my new neighbor—until my divorce and this bitch of a custody battle is officially over.It’s been over a year of fighting and delays, andI can’t risk giving Britt any reason to try and take them away from me; I wouldn’t survive it. And for a judge to grant me full sole custody—even with Britt’s abandonment and being off the fucking deep end at this point—it’s still a helluva fight, and I need to be on my best behavior.
I need those papers signed, sealed, delivered first; even if my cock is screaming at me to let Princess act out whatever was in that heated stare just now.
So no, no matter how fucking beautiful this girl is, that ass isn’t worth potentially losing my girls over.
Five
Louise
Holy. Fucking. Muscles.
This is it. This is how I die.
Send condolences to my family.
Official autopsy report will state that I died of an aneurysm, or maybe cardiac arrest. Just,everythingin my body is giving up on life at this point, staring at the hottest freaking man I’ve ever seen in my damn life. There may be drool, I’m unsure as of this moment. I’m too scared to check with him watching me from down the hallway, having caught me staring like a creeper. But looking away is not physically possible. Like I’m caught in some trap those insanely blue eyes have created.
There’s no way I can remain living next door to this man. I won’t make it. I will absolutely no way in hell survive it. He’s too goddamn attractive for my starved libido, and I’ll end up making a fool of myself—more so than I already have—if I remain living here as this man’s neighbor.
Guess I’ll have to move again after all.Bummer.
Finally, his gaze drops from mine and he ducks his head, that magnificent body disappearing through the doorway as he steps through it on his way to find a clean shirt.
Pretty sure if he’d asked, I’d have cleaned up the spilled coffee off his skin with my tongue andhappilysaid ‘thank you’. He wouldn’t even have to asknicely.
“So, Dad keeps calling you Princess, but we know that’s not really your name, so whatisyour real name?”
My attention comes back to the two girls on either side of me at the high-top counter where they’ve perched themselves on old-school style wooden barstools. Standing between them, I look down at Chloe and don’t bother trying to hide the grin that pulls at my mouth. Of course he would call me Princess.
