Page 18 of Unwrapping His Naughty Secret

But nobodyin my family understands that I want dinner to be over quickly. Hell, they won’t even let it begin.

They all take their sweet time coming to the table. They linger in the kitchen, admiring the two lasagnas I made, nibbling at the appetizers, and pouring another round of drinks.

“These really do look like bugs,” Cara says suspiciously, looking at the wrapped dates. She’s switched to water, smart girl.

“You have to try one,” Wyatt urges, popping one in his own mouth. “Fuuuuuccck.”

Emily giggles.

Heathgrunts.

Hannah narrows her eyes. “Don’t make sex noises, Uncle Wyatt.”

Cara’s cheeks turn scarlet and she stuffs a date in her mouth. Her eyes flare wide and her lips purse in a way that makes me lean in. “Oh,” she moans softly around it. The bright red cheeks soften to a pleased pink. “Ohhh…”

Hannah throws her hands in the air. “Et tu, Cara?”

“So good,” our guest mumbles, grabbing another one. “Why are they so good?”

I’m gripping the island so hard I’m surprised the granite doesn’t crack.

She likes the sweet and salty combination. I’ll remember that. I’m going to remember every single second of this night. Even the awkward parts where she won’t look at me. Those drive a dark, possessive part of my inner beast, who knows she’s scared and just wants to soothe her.

Emily pours a glass of Prosecco and hands one to Cara as well.

I make a strangled sound before I can stop myself.

“I don’t need that,” she says in a hurry, putting it down.

Hannah glares at me.

So I’m forced to circle around to Cara and pick it up, press it back into her hand, and ignore the way my heart twists when her fingers graze mine. “Please,” I grind out. “We’re all having a bit.”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I watch as she takes a careful sip, her lips touching the flute nervously.

There was nothing nervous about the way she kissed me. Her hot-blooded reaction to our kiss stunned me, and I ran scared.

And then she showed up on my doorstop, sending me spinning for a second time because she’s not a twenty-five-year-old college employee. She’s a student, an undergrad like Hannah, and I’m a lot older than her than I originally thought.

That’s not scaring me away, though.

It fucking should.

I shouldn’t be imagining those perfect plush lips kissing their waydown my chest and teasing me until she wraps them around my cock.

“Dad!”

“What?” I drag my attention to Hannah.

“Should I put the lasagnas on the table?”

“They’re heavy. Wyatt, put them on the table. Hannah, grab the salad.”

She rolls her eyes.

I’m brooding as I take my usual seat. Hannah puts Cara at the opposite end of the table, and I fucking hate it.

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