Page 8 of Dad Bod's Daring December

The second realization comes when, rather than turning me off, her clumsy kiss only makes me hotter. Never mind that my cock is hard enough to dent steel, her honeyed taste sends my head spinning like a kite caught in a whirlwind, dizzying and electric.

Despite my battered heart…

Despite my inbuilt caution…

Despite all the walls I’ve built around myself… I want to claim her. Hard. Deep. Forever.

Cupping her face, I take control of the kiss, my thumbs caressing her jaw. “Open for me,” I growl.

She does, and I delve deep with my tongue. Ah, God. She’s intoxicating. Her soft, slick tongue flutters experimentally before stroking mine. Her hips writhe and her hands clutch. Circle my neck. She rubs her lush breasts against my chest until I feel her nipples like little diamonds, even through layers of clothing.

Head swimming and chest heaving, I lift her and turn, placing her on the solid oak kitchen table. My hands, free to explore, grip her hips and grasp her thighs. Dig in and slide. Spread. Pull her closer.

I slide my hands up under the soft knit of her sweater, seeking the warmth of her skin. Her breath catches, and it’s all the permission my body needs to draw her closer, to lose myself in the sensation of her against me. Under the soft fabric, my fingers find the delicate warmth of her skin, tracing the contours of her body with a tenderness that betrays my rugged exterior.

I cup her breasts, hearing her breath hitch as my thumbs circle her nipples, coaxing a quiet moan from her lips. I grind my cock against her, sending quakes of pleasure radiating up my spine and into every muscle.

Heat. So much fucking heat and beauty. I’m burning in a flash fire, awash in its dancing flames. I devour her even as she devours me, meeting my tongue, stroke for stroke. My cock sets a rhythm, needing the nirvana of thrusting inside her.

She’ll be tight.

The kiss becomes desperate. Needy. It’s like touching a live wire. Electricity courses through me, setting every nerve alight. I groan into her mouth, pulsing my tongue in and out. In and out.

God, she’ll welcome me inside. I know it. Sense it. Feel it in her restless hands and eager hips. She won’t simply accept my cock. She’ll fucking claim it. Claimme.

That thought brings me back to reality. I allowed another woman to claim me, and it ended in disaster and heartbreak. Admittedly, the pull to Rebecca was nothing like whatever this is between Ember and me. But still…

My battered, wary heart can’t take the risk.

I pull away and step back, running a hand through my hair and over my beard, still tasting her on my lips. “I’m sorry,” I rasp, forcing my eyes to meet hers. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was a mistake.”

Her eyes open, locking on mine with an intensity that nearly knocks the wind out of me. Something in those russet depths flickers and dies at my words. I want to call them back, tell her that kissing her could never be a mistake, that her soft lips and honied taste are burned into my DNA.

But I can’t.

The weight of my past, the fear of repeating old mistakes, locks the words in my throat. Instead, I stand there, torn between the fire she ignites in me and the walls I’ve spent years fortifying around my heart.

Ember takes a slow breath, her eyes dropping for a moment before meeting mine again. “I see,” she whispers, her voice trembling, and those two words cut deeper than I expected.

“I didn’t mean to—” I start, but she holds up a hand, silencing me.

Her lips curve into a tight, fragile smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s fine, Edward,” she says, hopping down from the table and putting distance between us. “I get it. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

Her words, spoken so quietly yet so firmly, twist something in my chest. I want to reach for her, take back what I said, make her understand that this isn’t about her—it’s about the mess I am inside.

“I’m here to keep you safe,” I murmur instead, the words like gravel in my throat. “Not to make things more complicated.”

A flicker of something crosses her expression, a mix of understanding and frustration, and she nods. Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she turns back to the sink, the water running over dishes in a soothing rhythm.

Standing there, muscles tense, I remind myself why I’m here. Danger is never far. The Demons could be closing in even now, and our little bubble of safety could burst at any second. It’s my job to protect her, to be the wall between Ember and the brewing storm. We’re becoming each other’s anchors, relying on one another more with each passing day. And hell, if that isn’t dangerous in itself.

With a heavy heart, I watch her resume washing up, her movements graceful and sure. There’s a part of me, a big damn part, that wants nothing more than to forget about duty and claim her. But I can’t let this turn into more than friendship, no matter how much it seems she wants it too.

“Ember,” I say softly, steeling myself against the pull of desire. “I’ve got your back, always. But we’ve got to keep a clear head.”

“Clear heads don’t keep you warm at night, Edward,” she replies without looking at me, but her voice is gentle, understanding.

My hands clench at my sides, the ghost of her kiss still lingering on my lips.

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