Page 2 of Not In Love

The feverish climb had already receded, plunging her into a cold, dark void.

She shivered, the gnawing pressure back in full force. Her gut coiled, frustration building like steam behind a sealed valve. She wanted to scream until her vocal cords gave out or something snapped in her unfeeling body. Until she damaged something inside her enough to feel something again, even if it was pain.

A half growl, half broken laugh escaped her.

Bang!

She jerked up at the sound of the main door slamming against the wall, pulling her hand from under the blanket. As she stared at the closed door in frozen horror, footsteps pounded up the steps, and the door to her bedroom slammed open.

“Kash Aunty!” Her niece’s voice shot across the room like a firecracker. “Are you okay?”

Kash jerked upright, yanking the blanket up to her waist uselessly, heart hammering painfully against her ribs. "Tia, baby,” she said, her words coming out in a husky whisper. “Of course I’m fine. What’s wrong? What are you doing here?”

Tears in her eyes, her niece bounded into the room.

And thenhefilled the doorway.

Diego Ferrera—Tia’s biological father, ex-soccer player, and a temptation Kash didn’t need.

His broad frame filled the doorway. With his jet-black hair sprinkled with rain drops and his face in shadows, he looked like some otherworldly lover she’d conjured from her darkest fantasies.

Sometimes, Kash couldn’t believe that she had known Diego all his life. That he’d gone from kicking the ball on the street that they had lived on, to an internationally lauded professional soccer player, who had lost his flourishing career too early due to an injury that had shattered his ankle.

Then she remembered that Katrina had loved him even as a girl, and he had repaid that devotion by abandoning her when she’d gotten pregnant.

For their daughter’s sake, Kat had welcomed him back into their lives. Now, Kat was gone and Diego was in Kash’s life, and she didn’t know what to make of the man.

What she did know, and had tried her best to not acknowledge, was the low hum of awareness every time their eyes met. And how that pitch was increasing in intensity with each passing day.

Like right then.

Light brown eyes flicked over her, taking in her flushed cheeks, the messy blanket, the breathlessness she hadn’t managed to hide. They lingered, just a beat too long, on the pulse quivering at her neck.

Kash felt the heat climb up her neck, humiliation sweeping it up.

Her breath hitched as he moved—pure poetry in motion—and grabbed Tia from behind. The little girl squealed as he lifted her to his chest. Holding her like a football, he shook her from side to side, as if he was contemplating throwing her onto the bed.

“Papa, no,” Tia said, giggling, arms outstretched as if she was flying, not a trace of fear in her tone. “No throwing, please.”

It was one of the numerous things Kash couldn’t help but notice about him. The man was all muscled strength, but he tempered it effortlessly when it came to his daughter. And the one or two times they had come into physical contact, with Kash too.

He brought a wriggling Tia to the door and gave her a gentle push on her back. “Go wash your hands,” he said, voice low and firm, the easy authority in it making Kash’s pulse jump. “And remember, you can't just barge in without knocking. Your Aunty needs her privacy.”

Tia grumbled and left.

Kash exhaled in relief, waiting for him to close the door behind him.

Not only did he not leave but he turned around. The large, airy bedroom suddenly felt like a tiny escape room, walls closing in, trapping her inside with him. Her body came alive with a thundering hum.

What the hell was happening?

Kash refused to meet his eyes. Still, she could feel him standing there, that brown gaze lingering on her. An arc of heat stretched between them, tugging at her lower belly. Her nipples peaked. Her pussy fluttered, as if coming awake from a long slumber.

A breathy gasp puffed out from between her lips as her brain supplied images of him walking toward her, stepping onto the bed, and sneaking his hand under the quilt.

Goddamn him.

Goddamn her body.

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