Page 3 of Warming Up Coco (Santa Daddy)

Can she see me?Did she know I was out here?

I pulled at the screen, zooming in further, and the thing in my chest, an organ I didn’t know actually felt shit before I met her, clenched.

My girl was crying.

She was crying, and all I wanted to do was get out of the car and rush up the five flights of stairs to get to her. But I didn’t.

“Home.” My voice sounded scratchy. I hated having to leave when she was upset.

Emile started the car just as she stood up and moved toward the window. I could make out the outline of her body against the sheer curtains that did shit to hide the silhouette of her body. Emile drove off, and I prayed she didn’t notice my car driving away.

The entire ride home, the city could have burned around me, and I wouldn’t have noticed. Not when my attention was laser-focused on the woman on my phone. She wiped away the tears and reached into her dresser. When I saw what she pulled out, the oxygen in my lungs seized. A hoodie.

My hoodie.

The one I had tossed off before I took a shower in the adjoined bathroom I had in my office. A sweater that had mysteriously gone missing a couple of months ago, one she swore she had no clue what I was talking about when I asked if she’d seen it.

The little minx had lied to me.Coco lied to daddy.

I rolled my neck from side to side and rested my free hand on my thigh when I watched her bring it up to her face and breathe in my scent. My knee started to bounce as I glanced out the window to check where we were. Emile needed to hurry me home, or I was going to take my dick out and stroke it in the backseat of the SUV like some kind of feral animal.

An animal she had brought to life.

A beast.

Who the fuck did I think I was kidding? Did I really think I could do the right thing when it came to her? I had genuinely tried. Shep had warned me to put space between her and me.

But I hadn’t been able to.

I’d really put up a fight. If anyone knew the extent of my obsession, they would be in awe of the fact my control hadn’t snapped before this. She pulled my hoodie over her head and got back into bed, not bothering to turn the light off. She was covered in my sweater, the fabric engulfing her. Jesus, she was so much smaller than me.

Younger than me, too.

I was fourteen years older than her.

Too old for her.

My thumb stroked her body on the screen while I let my mind run wild. Why had she woken up crying? It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her wake hard in the middle of the night. What woke my sweet girl up from her dreams that she had to seek out my hoodie that obviously brought her comfort?

And why the fuck was I wasting time staring at her through a screen instead of having her in my bed and in my arms to comfort her?

“Sir?” Emile’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I glanced up. “We’re here.”

“Thank you, Emile.” I nodded and got out of the car, waving goodbye before making my way into my house in the hills. I hated driving, especially in LA traffic.

I opened and shut my door, locking it behind me. I kicked my shoes off out of habit and went straight to my wet bar.

I needed to make a move.

I was exhausted of acting like I didn’t give a shit about her. Like she wasn’t the sole reason I got up in the morning to start the day. Like she wasn’t the one thing I looked forward to the most.

Coco Sanchez was beautiful. But it was more than her smooth flawless skin, angelic face, and shiny dark locks that made my hands itch to touch her. It was her. Inside and out. The woman was smart, witty, and fucking hilarious with the biggest freaking heart I had ever seen.

She was too fucking good for me.

I was the kind of man who had promised himself he didn’t need anyone.

I’d learned that early on, the hard way. You were supposed to be brought up by people who loved you unconditionally. Instead, my parents couldn’t have given two shits about me or my brothers, Sheppard and Trent. The only one who cared if we ate or not was my grandfather, who was as indifferent and as emotionally challenged as a rock.

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