Page 22 of My Dad's Best Friend

“I don’t know,” I say.

Conner’s eyes meet mine, showing me a different man than the one who takes possession of my body while we’re in bed together…or in the shower…or the laundry room. He shows me the part of him that wants to feed me fruit in the hot tub, that wants to wash and brush my hair, that wants to carry me to bed every night.

He leans towards me, his hands on my thighs just above my knees, innocent enough, yet still arousing. Any touch from him gets me going. I breathe him in as his lips gently touch mine. His hands move behind my legs, his fingers wiggling between them and the chair, until they’re behind my knees, pulling me forward so I’m straddling him. His lips part mine and his kiss grows deeper, like he’s reaching into me, entwining us in a way that’s more than just lust.

I whimper for him, not because I’m turned on, but because I know that I can’t get enough of him, and that I don’t want this to end.

He pulls away, his eyes meeting mine as a smile touches his lips.

“You’re mine,” he says softly. “That doesn’t change.”

He kisses me again, delicately, briefly, his hands holding my legs in place at his hips.

“What the hell is going on here!”

In the desert heat, I go cold and pull back from Conner, my eyes wide.

I don’t have to tell him that my dad has just asked that question, has just seen me with my legs spread across his best friend’s middle, with his hands on me, kissing me.

If Conner is as panicked as I feel in this moment, he doesn’t show it. He turns his head and casually pulls back from me, rocking back onto his heels and standing up. I snap my legs closed and pull on my hat, not really sure what I should be doing. I stand next to him, then wonder if I should sit.

“What are you doing back?” I ask, trying to sound like nothing is wrong. Except everything is wrong. What the hell are my parents doing back so early? I know Mom and Dad would have to find out at some point, but not like this.

“What the hell are you doing with my daughter?” Dad demands, his hands balled into fists as he marches straight at Conner.

Chapter Eight

Conner

“My daughter,” is what John said. My. That is the word that just came out of his mouth, and that’s the word I just cannot abide when it comes to Marie. Not unless I’m the one saying it.

“She’s mine,” I growl, barely audible. I know that Marie is her own woman, and that she’s also the daughter of my best friend. But the fact that he was laying claim to her in such a way, the possessive term he used gets my blood boiling.

My hands curls into fists and I tighten them, ready to throw the punch that will knock that word right out of his mouth.

This is John, I remind myself. My best friend.

If it was my daughter.

It wouldn’t happen.

“Dad, please,” Marie says, stepping between me and John as he crosses the lawn towards me. I’ve never seen him this angry, and I think for a moment that I don’t know this man. Maybe I can knock his teeth in. Lord knows I want to.

“Stay out of this, Marie,” I tell her, putting my arm out and moving her behind me.

“Get your hands off her!” John shouts, lunging into a dive at me.

I pull both Marie and myself out of his way. He barely misses us and stumbles, only angrier. He raises his fist at me as he turns, ready to swing.

“John, calm down,” I say, trying to restrain myself. I want to hit him and knock some sense into him. I want to punch him so badly, to throw him against the tree for saying Marie belongs to him. That she is his daughter. He might be her father, but she only belongs to me.

He’s my friend, I have to remind myself. My closest friend. And he’s Marie’s father. I don’t want to knock sense into her father right in front of her.

My words fall on deaf ears. The swing comes, and I duck out of the way, catching John by the wrist.

“Marie,” I say. “Get in the house.”

“But—”

“Just do it!”

She obeys, and from the corner of my eye I can see Kath at the sliding glass door to the yard, a phone in her hand. I think I can hear Marie trying to calm her mother down, though I can’t make it out over the heavy breathing and struggle of John, who’s trying to get his arm back from me.

I twist it up behind his back, holding him in front of me as I wrap my arm around his chest.

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