Daddy Crush - Adriana Anders Page 0,16

bread, and hands it over. “Dig in.”

I do. And it’s so good, I moan.

I barely take notice when Karl blows out a hard breath, slaps the bar, and walks away.

I swallow the bread and stuff another bite into my mouth.

A couple minutes later, he’s back with a small terra cotta plate of shrimp in a chunky sauce. “Spiced camarones,” he says.

When I don’t immediately respond, he indicates the dish with his chin. “Go on. Tell me what you think.”

I pick up a shrimp and bite into it and holy mother, it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. I don’t say a word, but he must know I love it, because his eyes are on me and he’s nodding a little, like he knows.

He pushes the basket of bread closer. “Dip it in the sauce.”

It’s sweet and salty and hot, hot, hot, with garlic and spices I’ve only recently discovered. I swear I’m drooling when I say, “That. Is the best. Thing. I’ve ever eaten. Hands down.”

He grins. “Just wait.”

The second shrimp goes down the same way, although I notice different things this time—a perfumey green herb that lifts the whole dish up. I love it.

“I want to marry this.” I’m half laughing, half moaning and he joins in, though he hasn’t even tasted it. “Here.” I push it toward him. “Eat some.”

“Nope. Just enjoying the show.”

“Hey!” I say, halfheartedly. I can’t be bothered to feel embarrassment. I know how I am about food. I know how it looks, and I don’t care. The fact that he appreciates it makes me like him that much more. I really do like him. I like his restaurant, too, and his daughter.

My eyes follow his progress down the bar, to where two men have sat down for dinner. He shakes their hands and chats with them, looking friendly and warm and happy to see them. It’s probably wrong to objectify him, but it’s hard not to from this distance. There’s something so confident about the man. Tall and straight and hefty in a way that excites me. I imagine all that power doing things to me, though I still don’t know exactly what it is that I want.

I mean, I’ve watched sexy stuff. I’ve seen what people do. My parents insisted that curiosity was one of my worst vices. I know at least some of what two bodies can do together, to each other. But that man over there—standing so straight and strong, so confident and warm—I’ve tasted him. I’ve felt his firm touch. I know how he smells, close up. Knowing and experiencing aren’t even in the same realm.

My eyes drink him in now as he pours a few things into a big, silver cup, shakes it all up carefully serves it to his two new customers. He’s rolled up his sleeves to just below his elbows—a place I’ve never admired on a human before—which showcases tattoos I had no idea were there, muscles, and thick-knuckled fingers that work with absolute ease and expertise. Will he work me like that?

I’m breathing hard just thinking about it. It doesn’t occur to me that I’m staring until his gaze shifts to mine. Just that eye to eye contact rearranges my insides.

A shiver runs through me. He knows what I’m thinking. He knows.

He pushes off the bar, saying something to his customers, without taking his eyes off me. Peripherally, I notice them watching me, probably wondering what’s gotten into Karl McCoy.

Slowly, he prowls toward me, an inexplicable dichotomy of tight muscles and loose limbs. How would it feel to let that capable body take over? No. Not would, I realize with a startled little jolt. Will. How will that feel?

“Got a minute?” he asks, which I don’t immediately understand.

“Um, sure.”

“Follow me,” he growls before heading through a wooden door in the back of the room.

Karl

I shouldn’t be doing this. Not here, where I’ve literally fired employees for inappropriate behavior. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I am.

And she’s following me, which… Hell, I don’t know if I’m pleased or unhappy about that.

Bullshit.

I glance down to where my cock’s pressing against the front of my jeans. Calling bullshit on myself’s sort of been my mantra for my forties. So, yeah, I’m excited as hell that she’s right behind me.

I unlock my office door, wait for Jerusha to step inside, and follow her in, locking it behind me.

“I, uh…” Shit. What an asshole. Full restaurant out front, and I’m back here, stammering in front of the woman who