Page 88 of Doughn't Let Me Go

“Kiss me.”

Dory dared utter those words, and I wanted to make her birthday wish come true. Ireallywanted to. More-than-I’ve-ever-wanted-anything kind of wanted to.

But we’d been drinking and there was no way I was going to let our first kiss happen when we were intoxicated, no matter how badly I wanted it.

My morals are stronger than that.

And if I’m being honest, there was a tiny part of me that was afraid she’d wake up and regret it in the morning if we did kiss. I understand her stance on kisses, maybe more than she thought I would, and I wanted to respect that.

So instead of kissing her, we talked, and she drank.

Then I took her to bed.

Herbed.

I carried her down the stairs and to her room. Tucked her in and set a glass of water on the nightstand along with some medicine to combat the hangover I’m sure she’s bound to have this morning. I summoned every ounce of strength I had to walk away, and then she asked me to stay.

My eyes swept over her body. Her already tiny skirt had ridden up, and her shirt had bunched around her stomach, exposing the skin I know to be softer than silk.

I couldn’t stay. We’d already crossed too many lines. There was no way I was crossing that one too.

I went back to my room alone and then crawled into a bottle of tequila to chase away the urge to give in to her.

It might be the first time I’ve had that much tequila and didn’t end up naked.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

That’swhy my head is pounding. I tried to forget the way she felt in my arms. Tried to forget the look she gave me when I confessed my deepest secret, like I was a fucking hero when all I did was be there for someone who needed me.

I tried to forget the way she begged me to kiss her.

I’m so sick of trying to forget.

I want her. I want her bad.

Maybe this situation we have ourselves in isn’t that bad. Maybe wecandate and not make it weird. Right?

No, idiot. You’re her employer.

And as long as that’s true, we can’t be together, no matter how badly we both want it.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Dad!”

Oh shit.

I flip over too fast and I feel my stomach turn.Ugh.I clutch at the discomfort and open my mouth to tell my daughter to give me a minute, but then another voice joins in.

“Kyrie.”

Though she’s trying hard to be quiet, I hear Dory. Then again, everything sounds like it’s being screamed right now.

“Your dad is probably still sleeping.”

Which is something she should be doing too. How the hell does she sound so awake right now?

“Let’s give him another half hour and then we’ll wake him up. Sound good?”

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