Page 49 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

I stride across the backyard, the familiar path now a bridge to a future uncertain and thrilling. The weight of change settles on my shoulders, lighter than expected. Even if the idea of confining myself with the men who have me twisted up inside sounds like an absolute nightmare.

Austin’s mansion looms ahead, grand and imposing. I never get tired of looking at it. You’d think it would be garish and over the top given its size, but it’s not. It’s done really tastefully, and if I had the opportunity to design my own dream home, I imagine it would look a lot like this one.

I push through the back door planning to head toward the foyer to wait for Cohen’s SUV to arrive. Of course, life has other plans becausehe'sthere. The man is a statue of composure as always. The heat in his eyes could almost be mistaken for that brooding intensity he exudes, but I know better. He slipped and showed me his hand. He wants me as badly as I want him.

"Hey," Austin greets me, his tone neutral, but those dark blonde locks and tailored suit strike an image that's anything but. "Everything go smoothly?"

"Smooth as can be," I answer, trying to ignore the way my skin prickles with awareness at his proximity. "Lead the way, Mr. Rhodes."

He nods, stepping aside to let me pass, and I catch the faintest scent of his cologne—clean, crisp, with a hint of something spicy that makes my heart pick up its pace for reasons I won't admit. Not out loud, anyway.

He places a hand on my lower back—which sends a spark through my nerve endings that I am most definitely going to ignore—and leads me toward the back hallway. After what seems like an eternity, he pulls his hand back and steps in front of me, leading the way.

He doesn't look back to see if I'm following; it's as though he assumes I wouldn't dare stray from the path he's set. I'm led not to the grand staircase that leads to the upstairs bedrooms but toward a door on the main floor. A door I know all too well.

"Your room," he states, gesturing with a hand more accustomed to commanding boardrooms than showing guests their accommodations. It's separate from the rest of the bedrooms, which are on the upper floor, an intentional placement that doesn't escape me. Privacy, or perhaps a buffer zone from the rest of his perfectly ordered world? I can't be sure.

"Thank you," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. My attempt to sound gracious is betrayed by the tightness in my throat. The memories attached to this room—or the wall outside of it—are too fresh, too potent. That evening, still dripping with the water from the pool, when lust and longing nearly tipped the scales—when I almost succumbed to the magnetic pull that Austin exerts.

I pause at the threshold, my gaze fixating on a particular spot on the wall. It would be innocuous to anyone else, just part of the structure holding up the mansion. But to me, it's where he had pressed me close, where his fingers traced secrets onto my skin, igniting a flame that still burns beneath my skin. His touch lingered long after our bodies parted, an imprint that time and Theo haven't erased.

A shiver courses through me, involuntary and revealing. My breath hitches as I recall the feel of his fingers slipping between my thighs, the way he tasted my arousal with a satisfaction thatbordered on smug. He was right about this dangerous game we're playing, teetering on the edge of control and chaos.

"Skylar?" The sound of his voice pulls me back to the present, and I force a smile, willing my body to calm its riotous response.

"Sorry, just...thinking about where to put everything." It's a flimsy excuse, but it's all I have.

The air shifts as he steps out of the room, his impatience palpable like a tangible force. But then he halts, his eyes following my line of sight to the wall—a silent witness to our near surrender. A moment hangs between us, heavy with unspoken questions. Is he thinking about the way his hands mapped my body? The stifled moans against unspoken pleas for more?

He clears his throat, a slight shake of his head disrupting the stillness. It's as if he's mentally closing the door on those fevered moments, putting them back in their secretive box. "Let's focus on getting you settled," he says, the CEO taking the reins once more.

I nod, chastened, and step past the threshold with him trailing behind. The room is spacious, the afternoon light casting a soft glow over the muted colors.

"If there's anything else you need...new sheets, or any other furnishings, just let me know." His words are casual, but I catch the slight emphasis, an undercurrent of something more. Is it an offer of comfort, or another layer of the control he wields so expertly?

"Thanks, Austin. That's very generous," I manage, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tumult of emotions inside me.

"Of course." He nods once, sharply, as if signing off on a business deal rather than discussing the intimate spaces where I'll live my life.

"Is there anything else I can help with?" His tone suggests duty rather than genuine interest, but I find myself strangely grateful for the distance he maintains.

The air between us crackles with an electricity that's hard to ignore, charged with the weight of unspoken words and heavy glances. I can feel the heat emanating from Austin’s body as he stands close, too close, in the doorway of what will be my new room. The space suddenly feels smaller, more intimate.

"Anything else?" His voice is low, each syllable a soft brush against the silence.

"Actually—" The rest of my thought scatters as the front door bangs open, its sound like a gunshot ringing through the mansion's halls.

"We're here!" Theo's voice booms out, rich with unchecked enthusiasm. It's the disruption I didn't know I needed, pulling me back from the edge of something dangerous.

"Right. Let's get this done," I murmur more to myself than to Austin, slipping past him with a swiftness that betrays my eagerness to escape the tension-filled room.

Outside, the sun dips lower, casting elongated shadows across the lawn. My feet find their rhythm on the familiar path, but my heart still hammers from the almost-moment left hanging unfinished in the air behind me.

"Skylar, over here!" Theo waves from the trunk of his SUV, his curls catching the fading light. Beside him, Cohen lifts a box, his muscles flexing under the strain, tattoos crawling up his forearms like ivy on old stone.

It’s not helping. No, it’s not helping at all. The fire that Austin stoked is still burning strong. I want all three of them and that’s not fair.

"Hey." I force a smile, reaching for a box labeled “Books”. "Thanks for helping."

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