Miss Fix-It

The hair that dotted the lower half of his stomach and trailed off beneath his waistband.

The gentle bump of his shoulder muscles as they connected his neck and his shoulders.

The roughness of his stubble against my chin.

The softness of his hair between my fingertips.

The pressure of his cock between my legs…

“Daddy?” The call came from somewhere inside the house, snapping us both out of it.

“Here. I’m coming.” Brantley stood quickly and, after adjusting his pants, quickly walked into the house.

I clapped my hands over my face. My cheeks burned red-hot, and my stomach dropped with the realization I was basically half-naked, and once again, we’d been interrupted from going further by a kid.

Sitting up, I grabbed my shirts and stood, covering my chest with them as I made my way inside. Footsteps sounded from upstairs, and I moved into the front room to put my clothes back on. I had no idea where my keys or phone were, because my mind was spinning.

Spinning with the implications of what we almost did. Of what I wanted to do—of what I never would have stopped.

My entire body buzzed with the after-effects of our make-out session. There wasn’t even enough left to regret it. I think I was past that. I think I’d long accepted that as long as I worked here, I’d have to fight with the irresistible attraction I felt for him, even though he was everything I didn’t want.

Everything I thought I never wanted, that was.

I ran my fingers through my mussed-up hair and sighed heavily. What was I doing? Had I no self-control?

No, wait. I knew the answer to that. I had none. None whatsoever.

I grabbed my tank top and put it the right way around before rolling it up and shoving over my head.

I was just about to put one arm in the right hole when I paused, catching sight of a still-shirtless Brantley in the doorway.

He quirked a brow at me. “Going somewhere?”

I cleared my throat. “Um, well…”

Slowly, he walked toward me. Step, step, step…Closing the distance between us until he was a breath away. “Going somewhere?” he repeated.

I moved back. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure I never tripped on anything, I was apparently unable to judge the distance between me and the wall and slammed back into it.

“Oh, shit,” I muttered, flattening my hands against it. I could only imagine what I looked like with my white tank hanging around my neck.

An idiot.

An idiot was the answer.

“Yes,” I replied, sinking against the wall. “Can’t you see I’m busy trapping myself against the wall like an idiot?”

Brant reached forward. His fingers curled around my shirt, and he looped it over my head, then threw it behind him to the sofa.

There was a predatory glint in his eye, one that made me shudder with anticipation. My whole body shivered with it. I was on fire where his fingertips had brushed across my collarbones.

“We’re not done,” he murmured, stepping ever closer to me, closing the distance between us completely. “They’re asleep and, right now…” he trailed off, saying nothing.

“Right now, what?” I asked.

Hesitation hitched his breath, making his chest heave, but his turquoise eyes never left mine. “Right now, you’re mine.”

“For—for what?” I stuttered. My heart thundered against my chest, because I knew exactly what for.

Brant pressed against me, cupping my face, his large hands ignoring the blistering heat of my cheeks entirely as he took control of my face. “I want you, Kali. I want you so badly that I’m on the brink right now. And I know you feel the same way—I can feel it.”

“And what do you want me to do about that?”

“Give in,” he breathed, holding himself against me. “Give in to what you know you want. You want me.”

“Maybe so, but—”

Lips.

Mine.

“I can’t,” I whispered.

“You can,” he whispered right back. “Once, Kali. Just once. Be mine. Right now. Tonight. Stop fighting it.”

He was right. I wanted him. I wanted this.

I wrapped my fingers around his neck and pulled him into me. It didn’t mean I’d be his, but for tonight, maybe he could be mine.

Pushed against the wall, he held me solid, flat, stable. I melded against the surface. He leaned into me, hands riding down, and pressed his mouth to mine.

“Trust me,” was all he whispered.

Trust him was all I could do.

His hands slid down my body. He explored my body from my head to the waistbands of my shorts. He tugged them down and let them pool at my feet. Pulling his lips away, his expectant gaze met mine, and I chewed the inside of my lip as I stepped out of them and flicked them to the side with my toe.

He trailed his gaze up and down my body a few times. I squirmed back against the wall under his scrutiny—until I looked right back at him and the bulge in his pants.