Page 51 of Single Dad Dilemma
Just when I opened my mouth to speak, Lily let go of my shirt, her lips curling into a secretive little smile. “No matter,” she said airily. “Itmust be all the cookies going to my head, because I’m pretty sure my dog fits that description too.”
As she took a step back, ready to pass by me, I pushed off the wall and my hand shot out, palm anchored on the wall next to her head.
Lily reared back, her eyes wide.
Rapid breathing had her chest rising and falling, and simply because I knew they existed, my brain focused in on one searing fact: Underneath that baggy sweatshirt, she was hiding incredible curves. It didn’t make her any less attractive because she wasn’t showing them. In fact, this side of her, the one I’d seen all night—sweeter than I’d imagined, almost unbearably kind with my kids, filling the house with a warmth that by all rights shouldn’t have come from this prickly, surprising woman—simply made her even more attractive. Dangerously, hopelessly attractive, because both sides of her existed in one stunning package.
“What are you doing?” she snapped, the defensiveness back in full force.
The sudden flip in her demeanor wasn’t upsetting or surprising. If anything, a switch flipped in my head, clarity flooding my brain.
“Don’t play,” I told her, my voice raw, and even to my own ears it sounded dangerous. She must have heard it, because she sucked in a quick breath and lifted her chin. A show of strength, pulling up on her backbone, much like I’d done when she’d prodded me in a very different way.
Lily scoffed. “Who’s playing now?” she asked, tilting her head toward my hand on the wall, where I’d effectively caged her in.
“I don’t have the time or inclination for games.” I held her gaze unflinchingly. “And you know that’s not what I’m doing. So you better think really carefully before you try something like this with me again.”
Her throat worked on a swallow. Then her eyes dropped down to the floor. It was as close to an admission of guilt as I’d get. When she lifted them again, they were carefully blank, like she’d slammed a wall over whatever she was feeling.
“I don’t really know what I expected you to do,” she said quietly. “I didn’t ... I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
The honesty had me dropping my hand but not moving back. One step and her chest would brush mine, so I held carefully still.
“I think you know exactly what you expected me to do.”
Lily sucked in a breath. “Most men would’ve taken advantage of that moment,” she said, eyes still on my face.
“Most men might have,” I told her. “Believe me, if I wanted to kiss you, I wouldn’t need a fucking plant to make me do it.”
Her eyes flickered. “Take-charge type, are you?”
I pulled in a slow breath through my nose. “When the moment’s right, yes.”
God, who could remember? Not me.
She hummed. “But this moment isn’t right?”
We were dancing a line, tiptoeing around the edge. By calling her bluff, I’d stepped over it into her space before she’d known what was happening. There was nothing to be gained by going any further, but the uncomfortable tightening in my stomach, the overwhelming need to inject honesty into whatever this was—it pushed me there anyway.
“You don’t even like me,” I pointed out quietly.
This time, it wasn’t a coy smile that spread. It wasn’t teasing or meant to entice. It was pure amusement. The sight of it left me a little stunned, and I fought not to let my mouth fall open.
“I don’t know about that,” she said cryptically, then walked away to slip her feet into her boots where they sat by the door. “You’re growing on me, Barrett. Like a barnacle.”
I rolled my eyes. “Lovely.”
Instead of tugging on her coat, she draped it over her arm. “Thank you for inviting me. It was nice—and weird—not to be alone tonight.”
A million questions threatened on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them. “It’s cold outside. You should put your coat on,” I said, unable to help myself. Her eyes gleamed, and I gave her a stern look. “Don’t you dare call medaddyright now.”
She sighed, sounding terribly put out. “I told you, that’s not my jam. I mean, no kink-shaming or anything if it’s yours.”
“It’s not,” I said dryly. Not that I knew what my kinks were anymore.
Other than long-legged brunettes with mysterious tattoos and a mean streak.
Lily opened the door, sending me one last smile over her shoulder. But when I followed behind her, she paused, the edges of her smile dropping. “What are you doing?”
