Page 4 of Bad Daddy

“No,” I mutter, fixing my eyes on Carter. “What are you going to do?” He still won’t look at me.

“What I have to.”

Kimbell gently takes my arm, pulling me along with him and out of the room. I want to protest, but then I catch a glimpse of Alvin’s face, the anger directed at Carter. The lust for me. And I realize, if not me, then another girl.

I’m able to leave with my head held high.

CHAPTER 3

Carter

By the time Alvin and his men are dealt with, it’s the middle of the night, and I dismiss the house staff. Yelena reluctantly goes home, but only after I promise not to get Cece’s hopes up about us. Clearly, not realizing there was a reason I never claimed the young woman until now.

Sliding open my bedroom door, I expect Cece to be out cold; she’s had a long day because of me. Instead, she sits in the middle of the bed. Her glasses are perched on her cute button nose, there’s a pencil behind her ear and papers askew, and her hair is messily tied on top of her head. I’ve never seen a more adorable sight as I watch her type on her ancient computer.

“Why are you still awake?”

She jumps, paper crumpling amidst her squeal as she glares at me.

“Why can’t you make noise?”

I stare at her for a minute. “Fair enough. What are you working on?” I hadn’t asked earlier because I needed her to be distracted.

“College essays.”

I do my best to stay calm.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere that isn’t here,” she mutters, returning to her work.

I try not to take offense at her answer, but I’d be lying if I said that didn’t annoy me.

“Why not here?” I ask. Her fingers freeze over the keyboard, and I notice her pulse picks up in her throat and some color drains from her face. “There are good schools here. Columbia, Cornell, NYU, SUNY New Paltz, Barnard, Hunter. Lots of programs and degrees to check out amongst them.” I’m a greedy bastard. I want her to choose one to be close to me.

“I’m aware,” she says hesitantly, “but I need away from my mom, from her…messes.”

When she flicks her big brown eyes up to meet mine, I behold so much more than sadness in them. There’s a determination I can admire and relate to.

“What if she left?” I counter.

Lifting her hand, Cece pinches the bridge of her nose as I drag my shirt off. Hoping my state of undress will distract her enough that I can convince her to stay.

“Why would she leave?”

Her eyes roam across my tattooed chest but stop when they reach my bicep. A month after I met her, I went to my tattoo artist and had a band of prickly vines with a small bush of wildflowers added, and above that, her name.

Getting to her knees, Cece crawls towards me and reaches out to grab my arm, turning me to get a better look at her brand on me, whether she had anything to do with it or not.

“Why would you get this?” Her delicate finger traces the cursive writing of her name, eyes glued to the black ink.

Wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, I drag her closer to me. Our chests touch, and I feel the way her nipples poke at me. “Cece, sweet girl, did you think you weren’t mine after we met?”

Our eyes meet, and so much emotion swirls within the milk chocolate depths. “I don’t understand.” I know she doesn’t. Knew she wouldn’t.

I slip my other arm around her back and take her down to the bed. Without giving her a chance to protest or question, I settle my lips over hers and kiss her like I’ve been dying to since that one touch way too long ago.

Nipping her bottom lip, I lick across the seam until she opens for me. She’s hesitant, so I meet my tongue with hers and allow her to lead. I know Cece. I know she’s never been with a boy, let alone a man. While I can’t be certain she hasn’t been kissed much, it wouldn’t be enough for her to understand how erotic it can be.

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