“But do you still think I’m a good girl?” I ask playfully.
He grins and drops a lingering kiss onto my lips before pulling back with a satisfied smirk. “No. Tonight you’re my very naughty girl.”
My cheeks heat up. “I don’t want to be good with you.”
His hand slides up my thigh, sending sparks of electricity through me again. This man can command my body. “You’re a little defiant. You didn’t obey me earlier though. With the panties.”
I can’t help but smile. “And you liked my defiance.”
“I couldn’t stop smelling you.” He nuzzles my neck, whispering in my ear, “And I need to taste you again before tomorrow. Many more times.”
Tomorrow—when this stolen night comes to its inevitable end and we go back to our lives. Returning to our other roles—the good daughter and the good friend who’ll act like nothing ever happened one night in this city of secrets.
11
READ MY MIND
Jules
My heart is settled, but my mind is busy. What’s next? Part of me wants to bolt. I’m lying in bed with my father’s best friend, after all.
I should go.
Clean up, get dressed, and say thank you. Then call a Lyft home. He can’t really want me to spend the night. What are we even supposed to do now? Talk?
I’m too wired to sleep.
Isn’t sex supposed to make you tired? It’s having the opposite effect on me. My cells are buzzing.
Finn’s hand grazing along my arm breaks me out of my reverie. “Are you hungry? There’s a great Korean place that’s still open. A twenty-four-hour diner. And I also have leftovers from last night. If you like pizza, that is.”
A laugh bursts from my chest at the absurd question. I turn to him, giggling in spite of how weird I feel lying in bed with this man—this man with hair mussed up from me tugging on it when he fucked me. A burst of possessiveness fills me—I made him look that way. And he’s made me laugh. “If I like pizza? How is that a question?”
“Because of the if, I suspect,” he says dryly.
“Fine. But seriously, who doesn’t like pizza? That’s illogical. That’s like not liking pajamas or sunshine.”
He rakes his gaze over me. “You’re not wearing pajamas. And I like you.”
My breath catches. While I know what he means—he’s not an eleven-year-old boy giving me a construction paper heart—those three words still do stupid things to my heart.
Stupid, dangerous things.
I sit up, searching around for my bra. “I should get dressed. For the pizza, that is,” I say.
“You’re right. Eating pizza naked is weird,” he deadpans.
There he goes again, saying things that disarm me. “It is,” I say playfully, trying to keep the mood light.
Light is better.
I tip my chin toward the bathroom door. “Your bathroom is right there?”
He used it a few minutes ago to ditch the condom. But it feels presumptuous to just go in there without permission.
“Yes. Take your time,” he says, then swings his legs out of bed and pads toward the walk-in closet. The view of him naked is hard to look away from. He’s all long and muscular. His ass is spectacular. Firm and strong. Am I an ass woman? I just might be.
But then a terrible reminder of why his ass is so terrific lodges in my brain. He’s a triathlete. He works out with my father.
On that unpleasant reminder, I head to the bathroom and shut the door.
A few minutes later, I emerge, still naked and a little sore, but no longer sex-disheveled. Finn’s lying in bed, reading on a tablet, and wearing pajama pants.
Hello, view.
I’d like to whistle my appreciation. Those navy-blue pants are low-slung and sexy as hell. I stare. I can’t not.
“Liar,” I tease. “You do like pajamas.”
As he sets down the tablet on the nightstand, he meets my gaze. “So do you.” He’s busted me for ogling him.
“I told you I did,” I say, but I’m thinking I should have brought my bag up here so I wouldn’t have to walk downstairs naked to get dressed.
Awkward.
But Finn’s already up and out of bed, grabbing the shirt he wore earlier tonight. “Wear this to sleep in,” he says, and my belly flips from the sexy offer.
He closes the distance between us and hands me the shirt. I take it and slide my arms into it. It’s big on me, so I cuff the sleeves twice, then reach for the buttons to do them up. But he sets a hand over mine, stopping me. “Jules,” he says, like a low warning.
“Yes?”
“You look incredible in my shirt,” he says, then tugs on the panels, letting out another hungry sigh. “So fucking good.”
This man makes me feel like a goddess, especially as he buttons the shirt for me, stopping midway. He leaves it open at my cleavage, then runs a hand possessively over the tops of my breasts. “Perfect. These are perfect pajamas for you.”
My heart flutters. He makes me feel so wanted, especially when he curls a hand through my hair to draw me in for another kiss.
When he breaks it, I follow him downstairs, passing the landing on the second floor.
I stop for a second.
There’s a toy truck on a small table in the corner of the landing. I missed that on the way up.
When we reach the main level, and he flicks on the living room lights, my gaze lands on a framed photo on an end table. It’s a picture of a little boy scrambling up a jungle gym.
Immediately, I flash back to the box of cheddar bunnies on the kitchen counter, putting the clues together. “You have a kid?” My voice pitches up.
I had no idea Finn was a dad. But I didn’t know Finn was a dominating pleasure-giver either. So, there’s that.
He looks back at me, smiling in a whole new way. “I do. That’s Zach,” he says, pride in his tone as his eyes linger on the frame. “He’s seven now.”
Which means Finn had him when he was…I don’t even know his age.
And I’m curious. But I’m more curious about this new side of the man I’m spending one sordid night with. Finn’s a flirt, he’s a tease, and he’s a dirty talker. He’s a giver. He’s a friend. And he’s a doting father.
Which makes me strangely sad for a few seconds. So much separates us. Even if my dad weren’t between us, we’re far apart in our lives. I’m just starting my career. He’s at the pinnacle. He’s parenting. I don’t even have a cat, and don’t get me started on plants. My thumb is one hundred percent black.
I try to shake off the differences.
Obviously Zach isn’t here tonight. I’m curious where he is, but I don’t think it’s appropriate to ask. Besides, he’s probably with Finn’s ex-wife.
“He’s with his grandparents,” Finn adds, as if reading my thoughts, something he’s becoming scarily good at.
“Oh, it’s nice that they’re close,” I say. But I’m not sure I want to spend too much time on the topic of family. We might get too close to my family.
“Actually, I share custody with them,” he adds as we reach the kitchen.