Page 43 of Broken Daddy

17

KAYLA

We drove home that early afternoon with tension still simmering between us. Neither of us said much, but perhaps I should have. A part of me wanted to go in on him and cuss him out for how much he provoked me today and then blame his actions for forcing me to quit, but I knew that would be copping out. The truth was I had quit because I wanted to. And now I wasn’t sure what to do about it, so instead, I looked out the window, watching the scenery pass by in blurs of green and orange.

But even with that, I could tell we were both thinking about it—about everything he said back there in the room, how I responded, and what it meant for our relationship.

I was startled when he grabbed the man and stared at him with that savage expression like he was just looking for a reason to start beating down on him. There had been possessiveness mixed in with his protectiveness, and that should have scared me.

But instead, it aroused me beyond belief.

Yes, me. Kayla Brown, an independent woman and someone who fought so strongly against the patriarchal norms of society, had been turned to mush by a possessive, obnoxiously attractive man standing up for her. And I had loved every minute of it.

Let’s go home, I had said to him after. Although there had barely been any inflection in my voice, I knew he had seen it in my eyes. And he had known what it meant.

He was thinking about it too, but I wasn’t sure he had the same idea I did. At least not until his hand came off the wheel and wrapped around mine, squeezing once with purpose. I could have played dumb and pretended I didn’t know what it meant, but I was done pretending.

I squeezed back.

After that, reaching home couldn’t come fast enough.

My entire body was on fire by the time we got there. Even just the feeling of his rough palm against mine sent images running through my head—some fantasies, some memories. I distinctly remembered the feeling of his rough palms clutching my thighs as he drove himself inside me, remembered the pleasure so intense that it danced with pain as he took me, consuming me while his hands explored my body and murmuring his desire as he mapped out my flesh. His hot lips on my neck…my chest…my…everywhere.

Jeez, I need to get a hold of myself,I thought as Monty came around and opened the passenger door. He was just as affected by it as I was, judging from the bulge in the front of his jeans.

God, he was huge.

His eyes blazed with purpose, his thumb running over my palm as he took my hand and led me inside. By the time I finally entered the house, I nearly wept in relief.

Monty didn’t do the expected, though. First, he went around testing the door handles to make sure they hadn’t been tampered with. Then he walked around the house, carefully surveying it with a keen gaze to make sure nothing was out of place. I knew he had spent a significant part of last night installing some kind of video recorder concealed in a cabinet, and now he picked it up, reviewing the footage as well.

Only when he was satisfied that our sanctuary hadn’t been breached did he come back to me. He stared down at me with a fierce hunger on his face.

He reached out to me, and I took a step back.

I had to say something first before desire completely shut down all my thinking capabilities. Even now, as he questioned me silently, it took me a few seconds to arrange the singular sentence in my brain.

“This doesn’t mean….” I trailed off, took a deep breath, then tried again. “This doesn’t mean that what you did yesterday was okay.”

He said nothing, continuing to stare at me.

“I’m my own woman,” I insisted. “An independent woman. And I can make my own decisions.”

“Got it,” Monty replied, his voice almost at a growl. “Now come here.”

The blatant command in his tone sent a shiver through me, and I felt the wetness pool between my legs as I obeyed.

When I got close enough to crane my head up to meet his gaze, he swiftly wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me in the rest of the way. He caught my gasp on his lips when he kissed me, stealing my breath as well as my senses.

God, the man kissed like a dream.

He kissed with a singular intensity as if all his focus had been turned to this moment and as if he were given a decadent meal and he simply wanted to savor it, but at the same time, there was an unmistaken urgency in him. Like he was holding back from rushing this. The effort was there as his hands tightened on my hair, but the brief sting of pain only added to the growing pleasure, a desire so sharp and overwhelming that I felt my knees shake. They eventually gave way, but his hold was too firm for me to fall.

Pressure began to build in my chest, and still, he continued to kiss me hungrily. I lost myself once more in his taste as his tongue explored every corner of my mouth, teasing my tongue with his. The need to breathe warred with the desire for this to continue, but before it got dangerous, he pulled back, nipping my lips as I gasped in some air.

Then, without further ado, he attacked my neck, licking and suckling with the same slow, stable intensity.

“I want you,” he murmured. “I want you so fucking badly.”

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