Page 38 of Savage Daddies

“Hey!” It’s easy to keep my eye on her when I’m a whole foot taller than everybody else in the room. “Zoe? Hey!”

She pauses, and turns her slender shoulders around to meet my eyes. They widen.

Do I smile? Keep my lips shut and keep staring? Wave? Fuck. All train of thought disappears in the presence of a girl leagues above me.

I decide to raise my hand and wave a stiff hello.

That’s when Zoe gestures over to the back wall.

I follow her, and the main room bends away, leading to a quieter one where I can actually hear myself think. Now, away from the noise, I finally hear my heartbeat, and it thumps thick in my throat. Being chased by coyotes keeps it steady.Murderkeeps it steady. The only thing it seems to react to isher.

She raised my pulse the night of the masquerade without even saying anything.

And she’s doing it now.

God, to time-travel back a few years and relive the sex all over again.

Jealousy crunches my stomach. I envy three-years-ago me. He got to palm Zoe’s beautiful breasts and plunge his dick into her tight, inviting pussy. Our eyes joined for second as we fucked, and it shifted my spirit.

I feel it cracking again now as I stare into her wide-open eyes. They glow green in the soft purple light that shines in from the main room. Her chest, heaving up and down, fills out the dress. A modest neckline hides her cleavage, but that’s OK. I’ve seen her naked.

I’m winning.

For now…

“What’s wrong?” Concern wedges between her two dark, arched brows.

“Nothing.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She tilts her head and goes on examining me.

I clench my jaw to prevent my mouth from opening before I spill everything about the masquerade. She knows me, but only from yesterday—she looks at me like I’m a stranger.

Dunno why it hasn’t clicked.

It’s not like I’m a boring Joe that skips people’s notice.

Zoe cranes her neck out into the main room, eyes leaving mine for a second.

“How do you know Warren?” I ask her.

“He’s my father.”

“Warren is your?—?”

“Shhh. Keep your voice down, will you?”

“Why? What’s so secret about that?”

“Nothing,” she says. “It’s just…you’re here speaking to me and the press have eyes.”

I sniff a laugh. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m done with the paps for today.”

I fold my arms over my chest to prohibit them from touching her. Not inappropriately, of course. I just want to rub my hands up and down her bare arms. Goose bumps pepper the surface of her skin. She’s cold, and it’s no wonder—the air conditioning in this place is always cranked up to the iciest setting.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

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