Page 33 of Off Limits

He’s avoiding me because of things I did? To make me feel safe? “But that was me, Dad,” I say in surprise. “I’m the one who did those things.”

“No, honey.” He lifts dark brown eyes up to me. Beautiful eyes—soulful eyes. The way he looks at me, as if he’s trying to read the slightest fleeting expression on my face, it’s what I love about Jean-Luc. He can make you feel like the most important person in the world.

He reaches a hand around me and bends down to kiss my forehead. I’m exquisitely aware of the way his arm lies just under the swell of my breasts, the intimacy buffered somewhat by Bunners, who lies on my chest between us. The bare skin of his chest brushes against my shoulder.

“You’re not responsible for anything. You’re the kiddo. It’s my job to protect you, and that includes acting appropriately.”

I’m having an involuntary physical response to the proximity of his body—the warm, sleepy smell of his skin, the heavy muscle of his arm, his soft breath on my ear. My heartbeat increases and that yearning, aching sensation starts up again between my legs. It’s all so impossible. I want Jean-Luc to love me as my dad, but I’m afraid of how much I want him in a different way.

It’s overwhelming, and to my own surprise, I feel tears well up and suddenly spill over.

“Baby?” Sounding distressed, Jean-Luc lifts his arm up and moves away. “Sweetheart! What is it? Do you need me to give you some space?”

“No,” I blubber, squeezing my eyes together and crossing my arms tightly over my stuffy. “It’s not that. It’s, like, the opposite of that. It’s something bad, but I don’t know what to do about it.”

“You can tell me anything,” he says gently.

“There’s something wrong with me.”

“What is it?” His voice has a prying edge. “Tell me.”

I lift a hand to wipe my tears and raise my eyes to the ceiling. I can’t look at him. My voice, when it comes out, is a whisper.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

There.

I said it.

I don’t know what he’ll do with that information, but hopefully he’ll understand that I never wanted him to stay away from me, and that none of this is his fault. It’s all my fault.

I turn on my side away from him and weep with shame, curling my body around the stuffed rabbit I’ve been clinging to for years; that first soft talisman of Jean-Luc’s love. Maybe I’ve always loved him. Who’s to say? I don’t know where on the spectrum love turns to lust, or what it means when it does.

He’s unmoving and silent behind me, and I can’t imagine what he’s thinking, or what happens next. Will he ask me to leave his bed? His house? But only a beat passes before I feel him shift closer to me, and pull me in against him.

“Sweetie,” he whispers in my ear, and his voice sounds hot and passionate—an emotional Jean-Luc that’s unfamiliar to me. “Oh, sweetheart…”

He says nothing more, and neither do I. He just holds me close, and kisses my temple in a way that makes me ache for him, before burying his nose in my hair. My tears slow down and soon the storm passes. However depraved the revelation, the way he holds me shows me that he still loves me. Neither of us say anything else—there’s nothing else to say—but the way he holds me makes me feel like everything will be okay.

Jean-Luc

IT’S BEEN A long time since I held Danica so close. We haven’t spooned like this since she was a little girl.

And she’s not one of those anymore.

‘I think I’m in love with you.’ Her words play over and over in my head as I think about what I can possibly say. She can’t be in love with me, just like I can’t be in love with her. However strong the attraction may be, however real the feeling, it’s just not allowed. She’s not my biological daughter and I’m not her biological father, but still—the nature of our relationship makes us off limits to each other. There can never be anything between us.

Even if there’s nothing I want more in the world than to be as close as possible to Danica, in every conceivable way.

She wriggles her ass against me, squirming in closer, and I groan as my cock stiffens. It was hopeless to think I could enjoy this kind of snuggle with her innocently, and my obvious physical response makes her giggle.

“Danica,” I say in a warning tone. “Let’s be careful here.”

“Why, Jean-Luc?”

And purely out of reflex, I respond, “Aw. What happened to Dad?”

Shit.

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