Page 59 of Doughn't Let Me Go

I trail my fingers down her sides and right under the vintage band tee she’s wearing, dancing the pads over her soft, silky skin until I’m sliding them over the pebbles of her nipples.

She groans, and I want to swallow the sound with my lips, but I can’t.

“I want to taste you. So fucking badly. Not just your mouth—allof you.” I slide my tongue over her throat, pulling her nipple between my finger and thumb, playing with her. “That night wasn’t enough.”

I feel her swallow. “I-It has to be.”

This time it’s me who growls, nipping at the sensitive spot she loves to have touched. Marking her.

If I can’t have her, at least I’ll give her something to remember me by.

There’s a shuffle in the kitchen, and I freeze, but Dory doesn’t hear it, too drunk on this moment.

Strictly professional, I remind myself.

It takes every single ounce of strength I have to put distance between us, but I do it.

Dory doesn’t notice right away, gulping for air, chest heaving, eyes closed.

Slowly, she peels them open, and I see the fire in her gaze.

“Dad? Dory? Hello?”

The realization that we’ve been caught washes over her, and regret fills her blue pools.

“Porter—”

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you in Slice.” My voice is so scratchy, a barely audible whisper.

She gulps.

“But I haven’t,” I say, still so low, because I know my daughter is on the other side of the door. “I’ve kept my distance and I’ll continue keeping my distance. Because you’re right—Iamyour boss. We work together now. Drop whatever notion is in your head that I’m out here trying to rescue you and provide for you like you’re someone special to me. You’re my daughter’s nanny. That’s it.”

Her eyes burn, and she gets my message.

I want you, but we can’t. Let me take care of you the only way I’m able to.

“Are we understood?”

She nods.

I reach for the door just as Kyrie pushes it open.

She stares up at us, her little brows pulled together in confusion. “Didn’t you hear me say your name?” She looks from me to her nanny. “What are you doing in the pantry together?”

I don’t have an answer.

Luckily Dory springs into action.

“Oh my! Thank goodness you were here to save us! Your silly dad let the door close behind him and we couldn’t get out.” She ushers Kyrie back to the bags of groceries, pulling things out and loading up her little arms with them. “I’d have hated to be trapped with him for too much longer. He’s a little grumpy right now.”

“Yeah,” my daughter says. “You gotta feed him or he gets that way. Hopefully we have something he’ll want to eat.”

Dory sputters, and I know why.

There’s something I want to eat all right.

Her.

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