Page 42 of Off-Limits Daddy
Daddy stepped in, one quiet movement that closed the space between us. His hand came up, thumb brushing just beneath my eye before the second teardrop spilled.
His other hand cupped the back of my head—no pressure, just there, warm and sure.
“Hey.” His voice dipped again. “No shame in scared.”
I leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe right. Only thing I knew for sure was how close his mouth was to mine.
He tilted his head.
I tilted mine.
The space between us vanished.
First contact was breath—just that. Close enough to taste him, but not quite touching. Then his lips met mine, soft at first, like he was waiting for me to pull away.
Not a chance in hell.
My hands found the edges of his shirt, fingers curling in the fabric like I could hold on tighter that way. The kiss deepened on instinct. No roadmap. No hesitation. Just heat and want and something that had been sitting between us too long.
He held me like I was something precious, something he wanted to care for.
And God, I wanted that.
Wantedhim.
Daddy’s mouth moved against mine like he’d been holding back for years and finally gave himself permission to feel. Slow at first, then deeper, surer. His thumb brushed under my jaw, coaxing me to tilt my head just a little more, like he knew exactly how to get the kind of kiss that melted a person from the inside out.
Every thought dropped out of my head, one by one, until there was only this—his mouth, his hands, the way he kissed like he had something to prove and something to protect all at once.
His fingers tightened just slightly at the back of my neck. Possessive yet careful.
I made a sound I didn’t mean to, low and desperate against his lips.
That only made him kiss me harder.
My chest slammed against his with every shaky breath. His body was all heat and solid muscle, steady against mine even while everything in me tilted sideways. I clung to his shirt like it could anchor me.
Then his palm slid up, fingers threading through my hair, cradling my head. His other hand moved down, curling around my waist, pulling me in. Close enough to feel everything—his heart pounding, the restraint in his grip, the way he held back even when I pressed forward.
He pulled back half a breath—just enough to whisper into the space between us. “Tell me to stop.”
“Don’t you dare.”
His forehead rested against mine. For a second, we just stood there breathing each other in, everything too big to name tightening between us.
My lips brushed his again. Light. Questioning.
Daddy answered by tilting my face up, his thumb running along the curve of my cheek. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”
I smiled, heart thudding. “Good. Let’s die together.”
He huffed a breath—half laugh, half groan—then kissed me like he couldn’t stop himself. Mouth slanting over mine with more heat this time. More want. His tongue teased at the seam of my lips, and I opened for him like I’d been waiting all my life to get kissed like this—like it meant something.
It did.
Every inch of me knew it.
And when his thumb swept across my lower lip before dipping down to trace along the edge of my throat, I had to remind myself to breathe.
