Page 3 of Curvy Wives of Willow Creek 5-8

Her soft dimples make an appearance, a tempting tease that sparks an urge to explore the delicate crevices with my fingers and then my lips.

Those dimples. Damn it, those dimples. They could make a man sin. And I'm no exception.

Her apology lingers in the air like a seductive whisper. It's impossible to resist. Is she even real? I have to wonder. This is Willow Creek - a small town.

Was perfection hiding here all along? She's overwhelming, and, for a second, I can barely say anything besides suggesting she needs to sit.

My throat is dry, my gaze rooted on her, my desire... Well, let's just say it's hardly gentlemanly.

I want to reach out, to touch her and trace my fingers along the curves of her body. I want to feel her breath on my beard and know what it's like to have her against me.

Yet, she seems uninterested, her gaze drifting around my porch with an oddly distracted expression. Then, her eyes flutter closed, and her body suddenly collapses.

My cop instincts kick into gear, and I move faster than I think possible, catching her before she hits the ground.

Her body is pressed against mine, soft and warm. Fear intertwines with the desire within me. She's unconscious, her breathing shallow. I check her vitals, the beat of her heart rapid under my fingers.

Lifting her fragile frame into my arms, I carry her into my house, her softness starkly contrasting the harsh reality of her sudden collapse.

"Sophie," I murmur, lowering her gently onto the couch.

Her face is pale, her lips parted slightly. Seeing her in this state sends a pang of worry through me. My heart throbs in my chest, a frantic beat that echoes my fear.

"Lucy," I call out, my voice shaking slightly. "Lucy, grab a towel and wet it with fresh water. Fast!"

The echo of my daughter's footsteps fades as she races to fulfill my request. I turn back to Sophie, my gaze softening. I don't know her, not really, but I feel a strange pull towards her.

I want to see her eyes sparkling with laughter again, to hear her voice, husky and breathless from the heat. I want her to look at me, really look at me, and tell me she's okay.

This helpless woman lying before me has somehow rooted herself in my heart from the moment I saw her, and I find myself desperate to see her regain consciousness.

As I wait, my fingers tracing a gentle path over her forehead, I realize that my new and quiet life in Willow Creek just took a rather interesting turn.

The image of Sophie's blush, her dimples, and the way her body fit against mine lingers in my mind, a siren's call of a promise yet to be fulfilled.

And in that moment, all I can do is hope that she wakes up, and when she does, that she'll look at me the way I've been looking at her - with a desire that's difficult to hide and impossible to ignore.

My daughter, Lucy, sprints up to my side, the soaked towel in her tiny hand dripping water onto the wooden floor.

I take the towel from her, pressing it gently onto Sophie's forehead. It's cool against her flushed skin, and I hope it brings her relief.

"Dad, who is she? Is she okay?" Lucy's voice is small, worry etching lines into her young face that shouldn't be there.

"She's your new nanny, sweetheart," I answer, my gaze never leaving Sophie's still face. "She's just a little tired."

Reaching out, I give Lucy a gentle kiss on her forehead, my lips pressed against the warmth of her skin.

"Go to your room. Everything's okay, I promise."

Lucy frowns at me, trying to pull off a stern look that ends up looking more adorable than intimidating.

"Are you sure, Dad? I can help!"

I laugh softly, shaking my head at her determined nature.

"If I need help, I promise I'll call for you, okay?"

A bright smile blooms on her face, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of relief and excitement. Before she turns to leave, Lucy bends down and places a gentle kiss on Sophie's cheek.

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