Daddy Crush - Adriana Anders Page 0,54

and gives me a look, as if to say, What the hell man?

Yeah. What the hell, man?

I stare out the window, where the trees are doing their best to shake off the last of their leaves. Even in the dark, the riot of colors stirs me up, reminding me of the woman who’s just taken off for my bathroom. I should go after her, but I’m not sure what to say.

I’m fucking this up. Badly.

She was already upset tonight, about her parents and now trying too hard to make it right has shifted things toward wrong.

What should I do?

Hell, I don’t know. I have no idea.

I grab my phone from my pocket and, before I can talk myself out of it, fire off a text.

Help me. I’m fucking up with Jerusha.

Who is this? And how’d you get my dad’s phone?

Haha. I’m serious.

Admitting you’re wrong? Hang on, Dad. Let me take a screen shot for posterity… Okay. What’d you do?

Asked if I was doing things right. You know, to her satisfaction.

Doing it right? Doing what right? Wait. No. Don’t answer that. Forget I asked. Hold on. Is she with you?

Bathroom.

Hiding?

Shit, is she? I stand and head that way and then stop. I’m bad with women. Christ, I’m forty-three and I suddenly get this. I’m really, really bad at understanding them.

How do I make it right, Harper?

You’re asking because you like her?

Yes. God, I don’t just like her, Harper. I…

Holy shit, my life. Fuck-up dad asking his daughter for advice.

I’m falling in love with her.

Whoa.

Yeah. Whoa.

Tell her.

No.

Tell her.

It’s too early.

Tell her. Tell her Tell her

I let my phone drop to my side, pick it up again, read the words, falling in love, then wait for the freak-out to arrive.

It doesn’t. Instead, I type out another sentence and hit send, calm as I’ve been in my life.

I’m not falling. I love her.

And then, because I need to do better right now—maybe prove that I am a full-grown man—I go to the bathroom door. “You okay in there?”

“Yes. Yes, thanks.” The sink goes on. I wait. Water keeps running.

“Jerusha. Are you hiding?”

The water goes off. “Maybe.”

Shit. “I need you to know something.”

Is she sniffing? Was she crying? Her “Okay.” Sounds pretty doubtful, like maybe she doesn’t want to hear what I have to tell her.

“I…” My head thunks lightly against the wood. “I think I have to tell you this in person. Face-to-face.”

The knob turns, the door opens, and she’s there, staring up at me with a huge smile. “Let’s do this.”

“What?”

“I want the next lesson.”

I blink. “Now?”

“Good a time as any, right? It’s time to have the sex.” Her eyes skim down my front. “You got the condoms?”

“Uh… Yeah.” I think about dinner on the table—mostly burned—and the wine I couldn’t taste anyway. I think of what I admitted to Harper, but can’t seem to say aloud. And then I think of how soft Jerusha’s always been versus how thick her shell seems right now.

And that’s my fault, ’cause I’m an idiot man who can’t express his feelings…

To hell with that.

“I fucking love you, Jerusha.” The words hurt on their way out, but my next breath comes easier than they have in a while.

Her expression’s almost funny—a perfect mask of surprise. Then, slowly, a smile takes over her face. She looks so pure and happy in that moment the love’s even stronger, filling up parts of me I hadn’t known were empty.

“I love you,” I say again. After a quick, hard kiss, I pull her into my arms. “You’re right. Dinner can wait.” I want her so bad, so deep inside. To hell with it—with a growl, I haul her up and over my shoulder, caveman style. “Now, let’s go to bed.”

She giggles the whole way up the stairs.

23

Let's go to bed

Karl

I throw her on the bed in the near-dark of my room and follow her down. Every part of me is pounding with need.

Unable to wait another second, I yank off my shirt, drag my pants down, and remove my socks and underwear, watching as she eagerly undresses.

By the time we’re both naked, I stand above her, blinking in the dark, just aching for her.

“What are you doing?” she whispers. “Is this the part where you regret the caveman bit and or telling me you love me?”

“No.” I crawl over her and bend my arms to put our faces close, noses barely touching. “Fuck, you smell good.”

“Sugar and spice?”

A harsh laugh presses our bellies together. “No. You smell like…” Say it, asshole.