Page 13 of One Week With My Dad's Best Friend

“Ugh. I am coming. But I need to tell Hetty I’m leaving,” she whisper-hisses at me before glancing back to the bar, and at her friend.

“You can send her a text.”

She growls a little under her breath, and a couple of minutes later, she is sitting next to me in the car. “This is ridiculous.”

“Thank you,” I say, turning to her.

My response flummoxes her. Her body almost melts into the seat. “It’s not so hard being a good girl... is it?”

Scarlett sits seething, but strangely, that turns me on.

I pull away from the curb a second later.

Chapter 5

Scarlett

His touch sends a heat down my spine that I never thought possible. I hate that I’m attracted to my father’s best friend, rather than men my age. But I am.

I’ve been secretly in love with him for a few years now. Probably at the same time my friends were noticing boys. I was different. I never noticed boys my age. My eyes only stared at Anton—a man I know is way out of bounds—way out of my league.

The man whose hand is still on my bare leg.

I place my hand on his and try to lift his fingers from my thigh, but he traps my hand underneath his. I glare at the side of his handsome face. His jaw and cheekbones are still taut, but there are shimmers of silver slicing through his black hair.

Why have I never noticed them before?

“I don’t think I can escape,” I say when he notices me staring. “And maybe you should keep your hands on the wheel and your eyes on the road.” I continue playing hard to get—that's as good as Hetty's strategy was.

A small smile tugs at his lips, and he looks down at our hands together.

We’re nearing his house when I think he is in some kind of trance, because he loosens the grip on my fingers, but rubs his thumb across my bare thigh. I successfully contain a quiet whimper, but not the goosebumps as they break out across my skin.

Why is he doing this?

Does he want me?

He’s nudging at the line—the forbidden threshold that we both know cannot be crossed.

He nearly did this morning when his hand was around my throat, his hot breath against my cheek. I know he was wondering how the hell he got me into that position.

All I was thinking was...kiss me.

The door to his garage rises.

There is a part of me that wanted the journey to last for much longer. Wanted his thumb to keep making those gentle strokes over my flesh. Maybe push the boundary and slide a little higher.

The sensible side of me needs a stern word and a freezing shower to wash away the burning sensation that covers my body.

“We need to talk about...,” he says as he takes the key from the ignition.

“Oh Anton, my mother told me it was okay to go out with my friends tonight. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you herself.”

“I couldn’t stand it,” he says and I spin to him.

He moves closer, his palm touches my face and our gazes lock. My chest is heaving, my breathing is rapid and I’m waiting just like I was this morning.

Is he going to pull away?

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