Page 15 of A Father's Bliss

Time to see if Daddy Debois wants towork me from his system the way I need him too.

Though I’m fully focused on the task in front of me, my body is acutely aware of Renee’s proximity even when she excuses herself to the bathroom.

Similar to when we’re at the office, I’m always aware of where she is—a habit I’ve tried to break throughout the years but have always failed at doing. I could be knee deep in a manuscript, transfixed in a world full of mystery, murder, and suspense, but the moments I’d catch sight of her strawberry hair in my periphery, nothing else mattered. Only her.

Like now. I’m grilling the fish, steaming long stemmed broccoli, and creating a glaze, yet my eyes keep flashing to thedoor, the memory of her on my lap still fresh in my mind. The scent of lavender from her hair still fragrant in my lungs.

Encouraging her attention back on the catch and releasing her to stand was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and yet another regret. But as much as I want her, as much as I want to show her how indubitably obsessed I am with everything that is her, I need to know she feels the same.

I need to know without a shadow of a doubt that before I take her, she’s fully aware of what I plan to do, and that means we finally have the conversation. And her on top of my cock, her mind hazy from arousal, wasn’t the right time to have it. Dinner, however, when we are a table distance away from each other, is by far more appropriate.

As if on cue, the click of the bathroom door sounds before opening to Renee sliding and walking back into the kitchen.

“Wow, it smells amazing.” She settles into one of the barstools and tosses her purse haphazardly next to her. The glimmer of purple metallic catches my eye, but before I see what it’s from, Renee nods to the glaze. “And that is definitely butter.”

“Perhaps.” I return to the fish and carefully flip it in the pan. “Care for a sample before it’s ready?”

Renee beams and my heart aches behind my sternum. It doesn’t matter how often I see it, her smile will forever have the ability to bring me to my knees. Hell,shewill forever be able to bring me to my knees.

“Funny you should ask.” She perks up in her chair and my eyes involuntarily dip briefly to her cleavage. “I like to consider myself a bit of a sampler connoisseur.”

“Is that right?” A smile captures my mouth as I force my gaze away and take two plates from the cabinet.

“Yep. I once considered being a food critic but realized I’m not good at telling people I don’t like something they worked hard to make.”

“Yet you work at a publishing house.”

“And it’s precisely why I’m not an agent.”

“Though you’re about to help one,” I note.

“Temporarily,” she counters. “I won’t be in your hair long.”

“Perhaps I’ll enjoy you in my hair.” I flash a sly grin at her as I make quick work of plating the broccoli and seasoning them. When I’m satisfied, I turn back to the filler and scrape a fork over the top. The satisfying scrape is the perfect indicator of a good sear. I grab the tongs to pull them from the pan when Renee clears her throat.

“Hey, I, um. I’m sorry about earlier.”

Cutting off the heat to the stove, I turn with the pan in my hand, brows furrowed. A light blush coats her cheeks, and my amber eyes are averted to her hands that are tangled together.

“What do you mean?”

She huffs out a bit of an awkward laugh and I find it incredibly endearing that the ever-brazen Renee is flustered. “You know. Saying what I didwhileon your lap.”

I lift a shoulder. “It was an accident. Nothing to apologize for.”

The shade on her face deepens as her eyes connect with mine. In them is a vulnerability I’ve never seen from her. It makes my chest tight. “It’s because…well, because of who you are and who I am. I crossed a line.”

Smirking, I plate the trout, and set the pan into the sink. “So I presume it would be highly inappropriate for me to tell you I enjoyed you crossing said line.”

It isn’t a question, but a statement, and it hits the intended mark with incredible precision. Renee’s pupils expand and her lips part. I watch as the blush turns from being born of shyness to being stained with arousal. It’s a glorious sight I commit to memory.

She shakes her head, but it does nothing to erase the color from her face. “I wouldn’t call it inappropriate, just interesting considering I used to date?—”

“In all honesty, Renee, I couldn’t care less about my son or your father, then or right now. You shouldn’t harbor guilt over something I found great pleasure in.” I turn to grab the glaze and pour it lightly over the trout on both plates all the while enjoying the heat of her stare. When I look at her again, I can tell whatever she was holding on to, the reasons why we shouldn’t, are long gone. “Now, for that sample.”

Taking a fork, I stab a small amount of trout, watching the steam coil around my fingers as I break a piece off and hold it out for her. I fully anticipate her to take the utensil from me, but instead she places the flat of her palms against the island and leans forward, her lips forming the smallest o before she blows over the sample.

My cock jerks, the visual of those gorgeous lips of hers circled around it flooding my thoughts. Those big amber eyes wide and filled with tears as I fuck her sweet mouth. The same mouth that’s plagued my mind since her first day at work.

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