Page 36 of Snowed In with My Best Friend's Dad

Brett stepped closer to me. I stepped back, hitting the closed door behind me. "You'd only just met me when I fucked you."

I pressed my hands against his chest, intending to push him away, and yet I didn't. The scent of him, the heat of him, brought back all the sensuous memories of our time at the cabin.

"Now that you know how to fuck, I bet you can show him a really good time."

When his words finally reached my brain, I gaped and pushed him hard. I wanted to slap him. "All of a sudden, I'm now wishing I could scrub you from my brain again." I turned to open the door, but his hand pressed on it, pushing it shut again.

"Are you lying to me again?"

I turned around, feeling exasperated. "What is wrong with you? I'm not here to see you. I’m not following you. I'm definitely not going to tell you who I'm going to fuck or not. And I don't know why you care when clearly, you've got a woman who's ready to fuck you in the other room."

He leaned closer to me, his gaze drifting down to my lips. "Yeah, but her tits are plastic." His gaze drifted back up to my eyes. "I much prefer your tits."

"Well, that's unfortunate for you." I was proud of my indignation because on the inside, I was burning up and not from anger.

"Are you saying that you wouldn't much prefer my dick?"

"I'm telling you that I find your behavior offensive. You're pissed off that I'm here and yet now, you’re talking about your dick."

He let out a breath and dropped his forehead against mine in a surprising gesture that seemed to show vulnerability. "It's that craving again, Miranda. That wanting something that I know I shouldn't have."

I closed my eyes and willed myself not to fall for his words, to not let his nearness affect me.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing that we’re not at the cabin anymore. We're in the real world. Lindsay's in the other room."

He shifted, and I heard the snap of what sounded like a lock on the door. "In here, it's just you and me."

He pressed his body against mine, his erection hard on my belly making me gasp. "Tell me that you don't want this."

"It's not that I don't want it—"

"One last time, Miranda. Let's end the year with one final bang.”

Oh, God, I wanted to. My brain screamed for me to leave. He had a woman in the other room. His daughter was here. We were in a public space. But when he was so close to me like this, the world shrank until it was just me and him.

“What about—”

He pressed his fingers over my lips. “It’s just you and me right now. Have you overcome your craving for me?”

I nearly groaned. “No.”

“I jerked off thinking of you the other day.”

My gaze jerked to his. “You did?”

His intense stare ensnared me. “I did.” He fingered a strand of my hair. “Do you touch yourself, Miranda?”

I swallowed, self-conscious about answering such a personal question.

“Do you think of me and touch yourself?”

God, only nearly every night. “Yes.”

“Do you make those mewling sounds when you come?”

“I... ah... I don’t know.”

“I want to hear them.” His hand slid up my thigh, lifting my dress. “Are you wet?”

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