Page 99 of Mile High Daddy

Lila watches me closely, waiting for me to break, to give in.

And God help me, I’m close.

She steps forward, closing the space between us, her soft fingers trailing along my jaw. My body locks up at the unexpected touch, my breathing slowing as she tilts my face toward hers.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Her fingers skim down my neck before she moves with quiet confidence, climbing onto my lap, her thighs spreading over mine, pressing her warmth against me.

I grip the couch to keep myself in check, to keep from grabbing her hips and pulling her down where I want her most.

Her lips are so close, hovering just above mine.

“I get these urges at night,” she murmurs, her breath warm against my mouth. “I used to be ashamed of them, but not anymore.”

I know what she’s doing.

She wants something.

She’s trying to seduce me, trying to make me weak enough to spill what she really wants to know.

Her mother.

But she doesn’t understand—I see through her game. I always see through her.

My hand shoots up, gripping the back of her head, twisting my fingers into her hair. She gasps, her body tensing as I pull her head back, exposing the long, smooth line of her throat.

I lean in, my lips just grazing the pulse pounding beneath her skin.

“You think you can play me,kiska?” I murmur, my voice dark and controlled. “You think I don’t know exactly what you’re doing?”

She shudders slightly, but she doesn’t pull away.

And then, to prove a point, I slip my hand between her legs.

The second my palm presses against her, I feel it—the heat, the wetness.

She’s soaked.

For me.

A sharp exhale leaves her lips, her body arching into my touch despite herself.

And just like that, the last of my restraint snaps. I yank her head forward and crush my mouth to hers, swallowing the gasp that escapes her lips. She responds instantly, her hands fisting in my shirt, her hips grinding down against my lap as the kiss deepens, turns brutal. Lila moans into my mouth, and that sound—that needy, desperate sound—does something dark to me.

She’s fire in my arms, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her hips rolling against me as I cup her ass, pulling her harder against me. She’s soaking through her lace nightdress, her heat pressing against the bulge in my pants, making me ache.

I grab her thighs, lifting her in one swift motion. She gasps, but her legs wrap around me instinctively, her arms locking around my neck as I walk us toward the bedroom.

She nips at my lower lip, teasing, provoking.

“You’re impatient tonight,” I murmur against her mouth.

“You did this to me,” she breathes, her lips brushing mine. “It’s been months, Mikhail.”

I growl low in my throat, the sound vibrating between us. She’s right. It’s been months since I last had her, since she disappeared and left me chasing a ghost.

And now she’s here, in my arms, in my bed, dripping for me.

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