My Best Friend's Dad - Flora Ferrari Page 0,7

think I should get to give you one, too.”

I spread my hands in a sign of acceptance. “Have at it … Sparkplug.”

She folds her arms, which causes her breasts to press together in her T-shirt. I can’t help but gaze at them, the shape of them beneath her clothes, my mind flooding with images of me tearing her shirt loose and revealing her fleshy mounds. Sucking, nibbling, coaxing her to orgasm as I swirl my tongue around her lust-pricked nipples.

And then I see her breastfeeding our first child with those life giving mounds, looking over the top of our child’s head to aim a smile at me, a smile that’s mine and nobody else’s.

Stop.

Even this banter is wrong.

“Grumpy-kins,” she says.

I can’t help but laugh, the sound deep and echoing in the cavernous room.

“Grumpy-kins? I didn’t realize I was a character in a children’s book.” I say.

“Did I stutter?” she teases, repeating my own words back to me. “All I know is you’ve been grumpy all night, so yeah, there’s your name. Take it or leave it.”

“I think I’ll leave it, Sparkplug,” I growl.

“Fine,” she huffs, letting her hands drop, her breasts giving a sensual jiggle.

She’s not wearing a bra, I realize.

Oh, Jesus Christ, underneath her T-shirt her nipples are bare. All I’d have to do is slide my hands over her curvy hips and then up the fleshy gradations of her flesh, and her breasts would be right there, ready to grab, to please, to suck and lick, to make them shiny and wet enough so that I could slip my cock between them, pulsing, pumping, firing my seed all over her chest.

I take a step back, letting out a growling breath.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” I say.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll go …”

She trails off as I turn and walk away, already halfway out the door.

My heart is pumping as I stride through the house, a rushing in my ears telling me that what I just did was wrong.

The banter, the closeness.

Sparkplug.

I shouldn’t be giving her nicknames.

We shouldn’t be joking around like that, with an undertone of attraction beneath the words, waiting to rise up like a primordial animal and snap its teeth closed on mine and Fiona’s father-daughter relationship.

I try to close my thoughts.

I walk and I clench my fists, and finally, I find myself in my gym, where I walk right to the punching bag and lay into it without gloves on.

“This.”

I smash it hard, causing it to whine as it rocks in its bracket, the leather of the heavy bag crinkling as my knuckles pulse painfully.

“Is.”

Again, I hit, causing an animal-like squeak.

“Wrong.”

I hit.

“Wrong, wrong, fucking wrong.”

Smash, smash, and smash until my knuckles are sore and red.

Chapter Five

Sadie

I wake with a groggy feeling, fatigue draped over me like an invisible heavy blanket.

Getting to sleep last night was next to impossible with the word Sparkplug bouncing around my head, causing spirals of confusion to move through me, making me question why the heck Saul Sykes would banter with me like that.

I sit up and let out a yawn, my head pulsing with a headache from lack of sleep.

With the morning sunlight shafting through the windows, hazy with the clinging snow, the meeting with Saul last night seems like a dream.

Did we really stand bare inches from each other, so close I could feel his breath, see the brimming intensity in his eyes?

Did we really laugh together?

I shake my head and stand, dragging myself into the ensuite, maybe a will shower help to wash away some of the unreality still tethered to me from last night.

It’s painfully predictable what traitorous thoughts flood into my mind the second the hot water slides down my skin, making me tingle and sizzle with the heat of it. And even if I saw it coming a mile away, it makes no difference.

His hands, the sultriness of his breath, the way he strode confidently over to me as though any second he was going to lean down and kiss me.

I wash quickly, not allowing those thoughts to push me to anything I might regret. The shower pressure is way too freaking tempting with Saul staring sternly at me in my mind, with that smirk touching his lips, my nickname ready to fire at me and send me into a confusing world of sensation.

Wrapping myself in the fluffy bathrobe, I walk across the bathroom, the heated floors drying my feet almost by the time I get to the bedroom door. I glance at my phone