Page 2 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
"I've been trying to get access to his research for months," she admits, stepping closer to examine the journal I'm holding. "The university library doesn't subscribe to this publication."
"Take it," I offer, extending the journal. "I have digital access."
Our fingers brush as she accepts the gift. I know with absolute certainty that this innocent touch has damned us both.
The thought should cross a line I'd never consider with anyone else. But it merely adds fuel to my desire, making it burn hotter, darker. The forbidden nature makes it irresistible.
"Kyra." Her name tastes like sin and salvation on my tongue.
"Yes?" The breathless quality of her voice suggests she feels it too—this pull between us that defies logic and blood relations.
I should send her away. Should step back and maintain proper distance between a man my age and a woman hers. Instead, I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering against soft skin of her neck. The contact sends heat straight to my core, my cock hardening at the mere touch of her.
Her breath stutters. Her pupils dilate. And I know with absolute certainty that this innocent touch has damned us both.
"Happy birthday," I murmur, voice low and intimate.
"Thank you," she whispers. Neither of us moves to break the connection.
"Kyra? You in there?" Aaron's voice echoes from the hallway, shattering the moment.
She jerks back as if burned, cheeks flushing pink. "I should... he's waiting."
"Yes, you should go." But I don't step away, don't make it easier for her to leave.
She backs toward the door, journal clutched to her chest like a shield, eyes never leaving mine. "Thank you again for tonight. For everything."
And then she's gone, leaving me alone with the lingering scent of her perfume and absolute knowledge that I'll never be satisfied with just watching from the shadows again.
I wait thirty minutes—long enough for them to leave the estate grounds. Then I make a call to the one man in Denver who understands the permanence of ink and intention.
"Hiroshi, it's Victor. I need you to open the shop tonight. Special appointment."
"At this hour, boss? Must be important."
"The most important work you'll ever do for me."
Two hours later, I'm seated in Hiroshi's chair, my right hand extended on the padded armrest while his needle burns permanent possession into my skin. The rose takes shape—delicate petals emerging from thorns, beautiful and dangerous in equal measure. Every line is agony, every shade of red a promise I'm making to myself. And to her.
"Beautiful work," Hiroshi murmurs as he adds final details. "But roses are dangerous flowers, no? Beautiful enough to make men do stupid things."
"Not stupid," I correct, watching blood and ink merge on my skin. "Necessary."
When it's finished, I sit in my car outside the shop and stare at my wrapped hand. Beneath the gauze and medical tape is my commitment made flesh—a permanent reminder that Kyra Sinclair is mine. I imagine tracing the rose's outline across her naked skin, feeling her tremble beneath my touch as I mark her as mine in more intimate ways.
She just doesn't know it yet.
I drive home through empty streets, already planning. Patience has always been my greatest asset in business, but this is different. This is personal. This is everything.
My son has no idea he's just become an obstacle to be removed.
***
Six Months Ago
Summer heat blankets Denver like a fever, air thick with jasmine and the scent of rain that refuses to fall. From my position onthe shadowed veranda, I watch Kyra move through another of Aaron's mindless parties, white sundress catching golden light of sunset. My son is already three drinks deep, holding court with his fraternity brothers, barely noticing when she slips away from the crowd.
I know where she's going—to change for the pool. Aaron mentioned the swimming portion of his party earlier, though in typical thoughtless fashion, he'd forgotten to tell Kyra until the last minute. I saw her arrive with a small tote bag, unprepared but adaptable. Always trying to please him.
