Page 58 of Doughn't Let Me Go

“You can’t just boss me around, Dory.” I say it softly.

Her name falls from my lips like it was made to be there.

She grins when I say it. Or maybe it’s from my teasing. Either way, I love seeing the smile on her face.

But I hate when I watch it slowly slip away, her shoulders pulling back, face determined.

She takes a step back, retreating from me. From us.

“You’re right. I’m not the boss here, you are. It’s your money, your house, your daughter. If you don’t want me to drive her around in my car, that’s your right as the employer.”

So resolute. So sure.

So cold.

My lips begin to turn down, but I catch them.

Professional. Don’t show emotion.

I nod. “That’s exactly my point.”

“Holy smokes.”

Dory jumps like we’ve just been caught doing something wrong. Funny, considering right now it feels like she’s a mile away.

“You’re right, Dad—I regret skipping the gym.” Kyrie hauls two more bags into the kitchen.

“I told you so, kiddo. Ever since you painted your room black, you’ve been sleeping in more and more and skipping the gym.”

“The black isreallydark,” she mutters, then shrugs. “But it lookssocool.” She huffs, then dusts her hands off. “Just two more. How many people are we feeding in this place?”

She runs back out the front door I’m sure she’s left wide open.

I look over to see Dory watching her with a wistful grin. She hasn’t had such a look of happiness on her face since she was in my bed.

It’s heartbreaking, and it makes me realize something.

No matter how badly I want her, I can’t have her. I can’t fuck this up.Wecan’t fuck this up. Kyrie needs her, and she needs Kyrie.

But my body isn’t getting that message and my stupid fucking feet move on their own again. Before I know it, I have Dory crowded into the pantry, up against the wire racks.

“Porter, what are you—”

The words die on her lips when I press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, careful not to touch those lips I so badly want to touch. She’s set that line, and I won’t cross it.

A low noise bubbles out of her, and I want to make her do it again as she presses her body into mine.

I try not to think about how much I’m going to miss this feeling when I walk away.

Slowly, I press kisses all along her jaw, right up to her ear and back again. Then I repeat it on the other side.

As she pants against me, I trail my lips down, over the column of her throat and to the base. There’s a spot just above her collarbone that I have on good authority she’s particularly keen on having kissed.

A moan rushes out of her the moment I make contact, and she presses into me even more.

In this moment, she wants me. Wants this.

But I know if I hadn’t surprised her with this moment, this touch, she wouldn’t want any of those things.

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