Page 59 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

He’s right. I am screwed.

I'm screwed because Skylar isn't just living under this roof. She's infiltrating my senses, my peace of mind, unraveling the control I've clung to for so long.

But acknowledging that only gives it power—power I'm not willing to concede. Not yet.

With a shake of my head, I banish the thought. My footsteps are more determined now, carrying me toward my own room where order reigns and emotions are neatly boxed away.

As I close the door behind me, I lean back against the solid wood, allowing myself a moment of weakness. My heart throbs against my ribcage, a reminder that no matter how much I try to suppress it, there's fire beneath the ice. And Skylar...she dances too close to the flames.

Chapter 19

Skylar

Consciousness seeps in, slow and warm, as I feel the steady rise and fall of a chest against my back. I can sense his presence more than see it. Theo's arms are an unyielding circle of warmth around my waist, his face hidden somewhere in the tangle of my chestnut hair. His breath is a soft whisper against my skin, each exhale stirring something deep inside me.

I don’t move, basking in the comfort that comes from being this close to him. It's a dangerous comfort, one that threatens the walls I've spent years erecting around my heart.

Theo shifts slightly, dragging me closer—if that’s even possible—and nestles his face deeper into my hair. He sighs, a sound so full of contentment it resonates within my chest, echoing in the hollow spaces I've tried so hard to ignore. He presses a lazy kiss to the nape of my neck, a simple act that shatters the precarious balance I've maintained.

I blink rapidly, attempting to push back the sudden rush of tears that blur my vision. But the dam breaks, emotions flooding in—because this isn’t just sex anymore. It never really was. Ican't pretend; not now, not with his lips writing truths on my skin. I still love him. Always have. It's like trying to deny the pull of gravity, futile and nonsensical.

"Morning," Theo murmurs, his voice rich and groggy with sleep. His fingers trace idle patterns on my stomach, igniting trails of fire that I fight to ignore. "You okay?"

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat, afraid that if I speak, all of my carefully curated defenses will crumble under the weight of three little words that claw at my insides. So instead, I turn within his embrace, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "Yeah, just...didn't sleep well."

He searches my face, his green eyes soft with concern, but I avert my gaze. I can't let him see the truth there, can't afford the luxury of vulnerability. Not when everything inside me yearns to lean into his touch, to confess sins and secrets best left buried.

Because I don’t trust this. I don’t trust him. I can’t. The first time broke me. If I let him in only for him to leave again? I think I’d shatter.

"Bad dreams?" he asks, and there's an edge of something more in his voice—a need to fix what's broken.

"Something like that," I lie, because the reality is far more complicated than a mere nightmare. It's the waking up that's haunting me—the realization that I'm in his arms, and how much I crave this closeness.

"Come here," Theo whispers, pulling me back against his chest. And I let him, because for just a few more seconds, I want to pretend that nothing has changed—that we're still those two lovesick teenagers who thought they could take on the world.

I can't ignore the shiver that runs down my spine, not from the cool morning air but from the weight of realization pressing down on me. I've lied to myself for so long, wrapping my heart in layers of pretense and denial, convincing myself it was all just temporary. Theo would move on just like last time.

But this...this unwavering grip he has on me, the way his arms feel like they're etched into my very being, it tells a different story. One where Theo never left, where every “goodbye” was just a pause between breaths, waiting to be drawn back in.

The thought terrifies me. The certainty that deep down, beneath the armor of independence and self-preservation, I never wanted him to let go. That maybe, just maybe, I've been craving this return, this reclamation of what we once had, even as I've been fighting against it with every fiber of my being.

And now, as his breath warms the nape of my neck, as his presence wraps around me, grounding yet unshakable, it's clear. This isn't just desire; it's an echo of love that refuses to fade, no matter how much I will it away.

Theo shifts behind me. I can feel his heart beating a rhythm that seems to synchronize with mine.

"Sky?" His voice is still groggy with sleep, laced with concern. It's too much.

"It’s nothing," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. I can't face him, can't let him see the raw fear and longing in my eyes. So I do the only thing I can—I pull away.

Gently, so as not to disturb the fragile peace between us, I slide out from under his arm, out of the warmth of our shared cocoon. The bed creaks softly as I plant my feet on the cold hardwood floor, and I feel the last vestiges of his touch slip away as I stand.

"Wait," Theo begins, but I'm already moving, tiptoeing across the room.

"Need some air," I lie again, the words tasting bitter on my tongue as I grab the first items of clothing within reach—some of my shorts and a sweatshirt that likely belongs to him—and shrug it over my head.

I shuffle into the kitchen, hoping he won’t follow but knowing he will. My feet are cold against the tile, but I'm grateful for thechill—it keeps my mind from wandering back to the warmth of the bed I left behind.

Lucas and Elodie are a welcome distraction. They're already perched at the island counter, their little legs swinging beneath the stools. Lucas spots me first, his face lighting up like I just walked in with a basket full of puppies.

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