Daddy Crush - Adriana Anders Page 0,23

sinning, making mistakes—being human.

I’m not afraid of that. At all. The only thing that scares me is missing opportunities. I promised myself I’d live life to its fullest—here and now, instead of when I die.

I’m truthful in my heart and in my words, and I’m always generous, because what is life for if not sharing? And when have I shared anything so deeply as tonight?

I’m about to lean forward, full of the need to share more with him—my thoughts or another kiss, I don’t know—when he lets out a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Definitely past my bedtime.” He stands and stretches, with a third yawn.

I let him pull me to my feet and flat against his chest, wondering if being close to him will always make my pulse race.

I hope so.

“You’re magic, Jerusha Graff.”

“That mean you’ll do it again? Lessons, I mean?”

Grimacing, he opens his mouth as if to say something and stops. “Let’s play it by ear.” He gives a tight smile. “Tomorrow, you’ll probably meet some young guy who pushes all the right buttons. Won’t need me,” he says, with grim certainty.

“Oh. Sure.”

I accompany him to the back door, painfully aware of my near-nudity and the wetness coating my thighs. Squid races out, but Karl stalls. He bends toward me, setting my heart to flapping in my chest like a bird. When he kisses my cheek instead of my lips, the feeling turns sour.

“Sleep tight, Jerusha.”

“Okay, Karl. You, too.”

He throws me a smile and takes off, leaving me wondering what I did wrong.

I stew on that for a while and then pick up my phone.

10

Come as you are

Karl

I close her back gate and run my hands over my face, breathing too hard for the short distance I just walked. This isn’t the way this is supposed to go.

Dammit. I don’t do this shit. I don’t lose control over a kiss. A smile.

This was about her, not me.

Then why the fuck am I sporting a rock-hard boner outside a girl’s house at whatever o’clock in the morning instead of getting much-needed sleep?

’Cause I’m a moron.

And this has got to stop.

Whistling for Squid, I head to my place, unlock the gate, and go inside, all business.

I manage to keep up the charade through my shower, but my phone buzzes as I slide naked into bed, still hard as nails, and I snatch it up, finally admitting that I’ve got to face the truth: this isn’t just a fucked-up favor to help a cute neighbor out.

I want her.

I open my messaging app, unreasonably excited to see Jerusha’s name pop up.

I hope this doesn’t wake you up, but I was wondering a couple things…

Oh, shit. I wait for what’s next, caught in a mixed-up limbo of my own creation.

1. Did I do something wrong earlier? Or is that just…how people leave things? And 2. Is there more to dirty talk? I think we got sidetracked and I’d like to learn. If you’re still okay with it, of course. :-)

“Fuck!” I mutter, staring at the screen.

Squid woofs from his dog bed.

“It’s okay boy, I just… The hell am I supposed to do?”

He responds with a low whine, clearly wondering what’s gotten into me in the middle of the night.

I drop the phone on the bed, shut my eyes and press my fingers hard to my eyeballs, begging my brain to come up with a solution.

I’ve just picked the phone up to call the whole thing off when it vibrates in my hand.

My dick reacts before I’ve read the damn thing, pulsing like she’s in the room with me.

I’m still wet, thinking about you.

Goddamn. I swallow and reach down to give myself a squeeze. As if she needs lessons.

Two choices hang in the dark in front of me: The obvious one, which is to shut this thing down, now, before someone gets hurt. And the other one; the one my cock’s rooting for. Dive in dick-first.

I put my finger to the screen and type.

Can I call?

Yes.

I hit her name.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry, I—”

“Jerusha, I—”

“Yes?”

“You did nothing wrong. I left because I feel like…” I sigh, looking for the right word. “You know the joke from earlier? You debauching me? Well, I’m pretty sure I’m the one corrupting you.”

“Corrupting? No.” She lets out a laugh that I’ve never heard from her before, like a low, sexy sample of what’s got to be her bedroom voice. “Do you have any idea what I had to do when I got home from your restaurant earlier?”

As if I weren’t listening closely enough already, my