Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
She draws a shaky breath. I feel her pulse jump beneath my fingers where they circle her wrist. Feel her body leaning toward mine despite her doubts.
“That’s a lot.” She clears her throat, softening a bit.
“Yeah, it’s a fucking lot. A lot of fucking words. All at once. I haven’t said that many words all at once probably in my fucking life. So, I get it, you’re going to drive me fucking crazy, and sometimes you’re going to think I’m an idiot, because, yeah, sometimes I am. But we’re going to work it all out. You’re going to be a pain in the ass, and I’m going to fuck your ass. Turn it pink, kiss it, bite it and lick your little pucker hole like I know you like it. That’s my ass, and you don’t forget it.”
I lean in, my voice dropping to the register that makes her pupils dilate. “You’re on a roll there, Daddy.”
That name goes straight to my balls.
"I knew my name was gonna sound filthy coming out of your mouth that first time I saw you, and I didn't want it any other way."
I press a kiss beneath her ear, grateful when she doesn't pull away this time.
A cardinal lands on a branch beside the truck, bright red against the green. The same damn bird that made me swerve, I'm sure of it. It cocks its head, watching us with that beady black eye.
Mom used to say cardinals were visits from those who'd left us—that when you see one, it means someone you've lost is checking in. Normally I'd call that sentimental bullshit, but something about the way it perches there, makes the hair on my neck stand up.
Delaney shifts across the bench seat toward me, the last of the distance closing as she crawls into my lap, straddling me behind the wheel.
“That’s my girl.” I tuck her hair behind her ears, tugging on her lobes for a second. Her new dress rides up her thighs as she settles, barely covering the curve of her ass. I can feel her heat through my jeans, the damp patch already forming where she's pressed against me.
Eighteen and mine. Old and young. So fucking young. But my dick and my heart don’t care. Her small hands disappear into my beard, tugging.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. “This is a lot. I still look around and wonder if I’m hallucinating.”
"You’re not. So, we’re clear?" I ask, hands finding her hips, anchoring her to me. "No doubts about why I want you here?"
She nods, one hand falling down my chest, floating over my ribs then down until she’s toying with the chain that connects my wallet to my belt loop. I caught her eyeing it this morning while I was paying at the boutique, curiosity evident in her expression.
I shut her down when she asked to see my driver's license photo at the store. But my guess is she wants to see if I still have her picture in my wallet. The one my stupid brother brought up at the cabin.
“You want to see my driver’s license picture?”
"Maybe," she admits, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I bet you look like an inmate."
Before I can react, her small hand is unsnapping the wallet from its chain with nimble fingers. She holds it up triumphantly.
"What's in here, I wonder?" she asks, voice light with mischief.
I freeze for a split second, thrown by her boldness. Then my blood heats as her intent registers.
"Delaney." My voice carries a warning she chooses to ignore. “A man’s wallet is sacred ground. Give it back.”
As fast as a cat, she’s popped open the door and scrambled off my lap onto the dirt road, waving the wallet in the air. Smiling.
Fuck, now what do I do?
"Come and get it, Daddy," she teases.
I'm out of the truck behind her, chasing that fucking smile that’s going to get me into trouble for the rest of my life. I know it already. But she's already running down the path that parallels the road, laughing over her shoulder.
"Don't you dare," I growl, but there's no real anger behind it. Just the thrill of the hunt awakening.
She wants to play? Fine. We'll play.
Tracking and chasing always lit me up in the service. But chasing her? Fucking inferno level heat knowing when I catch her teasing ass, I’m going to pound it.
She's quick, but I'm quicker. I let her think she's getting away, enjoying the sway of her hips as she runs, the flash of her bare legs and her ass in the afternoon sun. She glances back, sees me gaining, and squeals—a sound so girlish and free it makes my chest ache.
Twenty feet down the path, I’ve got her. One arm bands around her waist, easily sweeping her off her feet. She yelps, squirming and twisting, still clutching the wallet like it matters.