Page 32 of My Best Friend's CEO Dad

“I wanted to kill the little prick,” Lukas says, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Knowing he’d heard you like that… It wasn’t even about Kayla at first. It was thinking of him hearing you, with that breathiness in your voice, that perfect sound of excitement you make. Or sounds, I should say. Plural.”

I slide my hands over my belly, tempting shimmers dancing through me, trying to get me to do something silly and reckless, like place my hand on his leg.

“It wasn’t even about my daughter,” he mutters, as though speaking to himself, before starting the car. “It’s all about you, Maci. I hate the thought of anybody hearing you like that. Those moans are just for me.”

“How?” I say. “We both know we have to stop. We have stopped.”

“Yeah,” he replies grimly. “For a week, and it’s been the hardest week of my life.”

“Your company’s going through a lot?—”

“It has nothing to do with the company,” he says, putting on his sunglasses and cap again as if speaking about his company reminds him we’re in public. Anybody could snap a photo of us in the car together.

That wouldn’t be that bad, though, would it? A photo of us in a car would be easier to explain than the recording, the moaning, the heat. I try not to fixate on his words—him saying I’m just for him. No, not me. The moans, the sexual side. Not all of me. It’s not relationship talk, which is good, I remind myself. I don’t want it to be that.

“How is work?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Apparently, the tech guys and gals have patched the hole in the VR,” he says. “But I’m asking them to double- and triple- and quadruple-check. I can’t let anything like this happen again. I’d rather be broke.”

Passion infuses his voice. He cares a lot about his company but more about the people he may have hurt by his mistake. It weighs on him.

Reaching across, I lay my hand on his arm. “You didn’t mean for this to happen,” I say softly. “You didn’t want it to happen. You’re a good person, Lukas.”

He glances at me. Despite the sunglasses, I know he’s got a note of accusation in his eyes. It’s like I can see through the shield of the shades. He doesn’t have to say anything. He’s thinking, How can I be a good person after what we did? I turn away from him but keep my hand on his arm. I can’t stand to think of the pool, the bubbles, and the steaminess as a bad thing.

“Maybe your PI will come up with something,” I mutter after a pause.

“Unless he can delete every copy of that recording, I’m not sure what difference it’ll make. Even then, Ethan—Finn—could tell Kayla. If she asks me directly, I won’t be able to lie.”

“No,” I whisper. “I won’t either.”

“Which is why we should just tell?—”

“Please,” I cut in, as my heart starts to hammer again. “I just need some time.”

He sighs but doesn’t follow up. He’d rather drive there right now and get this over with. Deep down—and honestly, not that deep—I know that would be the right thing to do, but just the idea of it makes my belly swirl.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” I ask, which seems almost ridiculous, trying to speak of normal stuff after everything we’ve shared.

“More work,” he says gruffly.

“You sound… tired.”

He stops at a red light, allowing him to look at me. I see myself reflected in his shades, looking small and terrified. “I’ve been putting in long, long hours.”

“Because of the VR stuff?”

“Yeah… and Sebastian, but truthfully, I could delegate a lot more. I’m working so hard because it’s easier than the alternative: sitting around thinking about you, Maci, thinking about how empty I feel without you.”

I squeeze my legs together. The huskiness in his voice is enough to make my lips feel like they’re swelling, my clit aching, like we’re in the pool again. Bubbles of lust burst in my mind.

“Maybe you could use me as an excuse to take some time off,” I say, laughing like it’s a joke, but we both know I’m not joking.

“There’s literally nothing I want more,” he says passionately, “except for Kayla to be okay with you and me somehow.”

You and me, what? I almost ask. Making love? Being together long term? What exactly is this?

“We could go on a private date,” he says, “but it feels wrong. No, that’s a lie. It feels right. It feels like what we’re supposed to do, you and me, Maci, be together, but you know what I mean.”

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