Maybe it’s the way he keeps trying to put distance between us, as if he doesn’t trust himself with me.
Maybe he doesn’t.
The thought sends a shot ofpleasure through me because the last thing I want from him is control. Far from it.
Or maybe it’s the way his voice drops when he’s trying to keep it together. Low and rough, like telling me to put my clothes on is causing him physical pain.
He’s looking at me with a hunger in his eyes that he’s not doing a very good job of hiding.
It just makes me want more.
Hemakes me want more.
Because for the first time in recent memory, I feel wanted.
Desired in a very,veryreal way that feels deliberate. Like, whatever this is between us is more than just me teasing him.
So much more.
He’s still standing a few feet away from me, my discarded shirt hanging from his hand.
I take my time letting my gaze travel over his naked chest, damp from sweat and the moisture in the air. Every defined muscle is tensed as if he’s only barely holding himself back.
The restraint is almost louder than words.
I take a slow step closer. “You didn’t answer my question,” I say as I close thedistance between us one small step at a time. “If I don’t…will youmakeme?”
My nipples throb against the fabric of my bra. Impossibly hard from the cool air and the intense desire Holt’s gaze is fueling inside me.
“Tessa.” His voice is full of a warning I don’t plan on heeding. “I’m old enough to be your?—”
“Daddy?”
The moment the word slips from my lips, I see the reaction it has on him. His nostrils flare, his eyes going almost black with need.
My own breath hitches and heat pools between my legs, soaking my panties.
The word feels dirty and absolutely fucking perfect all at the same time.
Now I know I’m playing with fire, but there’s no way I can stop myself.
I take one more step toward him until we’re so close I have to look up into his eyes and can feel the heat from his body.
“Maybe you’ll turn me over your knee,Daddy.”
He growls in response.
Growls.
His eyes squeeze shut for amoment as if he’s having an internal debate with himself. A debate I desperately hope he loses.
But I don’t look away, and when he opens them again, they’re fixed directly on me. “You don’t want this, Tessa.”
“I’m a big girl,” I say, my tongue slipping out between my lips. “Don’t tell me what I want.”
His jaw clenches, that war raging behind his darkened eyes. But then something snaps, and in one fluid motion, he drops my shirt and closes the small gap between us. His big hands grip my waist like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.
“You’re going to be the death of me, little girl,” he rasps, before his mouth crashes down on mine.
