Page 13 of Daddy's Naughty Author

I laugh, grateful for the change in subject. “Oh, it’s insane. I still don’t understand how one day I’m bundled up like an Eskimo and the next I’m in a t-shirt and flipflops.”

Tiffany laughs. “The next day? Sometimes it’s the next hour!”

Monica nods. “I’ve picked up one of the local sayings; if you don’t like the weather, just wait an hour.”

We all laugh, and for the first time since walking into this house, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I am truly enjoying the company of these women.

Outside, I hear the muffled sound of KC’s deep laugh, and something in my chest tightens.

I might be in trouble.

Later that evening, after we’ve finished dinner, KC and I are headed back into the living room when we hear Monica and Margaret talking. He stops me with a hand on my arm, and I feel especially naughty eavesdropping.

“You know, for being deeply in love, I haven’t seen them kiss yet,” Margaret is saying.

“Maybe he isn’t a public display of affection type of person,” Monica volunteers.

“I don’t know, KC is very physical. We all did the love language study and his is sense of touch. I don’t know. Something might be off…” Margaret says.

I see the look in KC’s eyes and before I can figure it out, he’s maneuvered me back into the living room. “We’re going to go ahead and head back home. Early start tomorrow,” he tells the women. Everyone stands to say goodbye and I find myself embraced by both Margaret and Monica. Tiffany and I exchange numbers, promising to meet up later in the week. I turn and see KC motioning for me.

"Come here, baby girl," he says, the endearment sending a shiver straight down to my toes.

Before I can process, he's there, right there, leaning in with the certainty of someone who's done this a thousand times—except he hasn't, at least not with me. His hand snakes around my neck and he grasps it firmly. His lips touch mine, and it's soft at first, a tentative question, but then something shifts, and the kiss deepens. The kiss is aggressively possessive. I forget where I am. I forget this is pretend and I kiss him back.

Our mouths move together with an intensity that takes me by surprise. Well damn, maybe there's a reason those romance novels sell so well after all. This kiss is way beyond anything I could have ever written.

The world tilts on its axis as KC's lips continue to claim mine, and for a disorienting second, I'm not the in a fake relationship. I’m in a real one. This kiss is anything but make believe. My heart thuds and my knees are about as stable as a house of cards in a windstorm. It’s a good thing KC’s arm is around my waist and his hand is grasping my neck, otherwise, I might have collapsed.

His touch is fire, sparking through my veins and igniting something wild within me. I've penned countless kisses, and experienced more than a couple myself, but this kiss? It's hotter than any scene I've ever committed to paper.

"KC," I finally manage, my voice a breathless whisper against his mouth, a plea or maybe a protest—it's hard to tell when every nerve ending in my body is screaming.

As we come up for air, and the world comes rushing back and I hear Monica tell Margaret, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Maybe she doesn’t, but I do.

CHAPTER 6

We drove all the way home without mentioning the kiss. I sat as close to the truck door as I could, trying to create distance between us. This isn’t supposed to be happening. I’m not supposed to be falling in love with this man. Is it love? Is it lust? I don’t know. I know my battery operated boyfriend is calling my name from my bedside table drawer tonight, because every nerve in my body is literally on edge after KCs kiss. Fuck. What is even happening?

It feels like hours, even though the drive was only a few minutes. The silence was stifling between us and then we were home. I said an awkward goodbye and hurried up the steps. Did I take a hot shower while masturbating to thoughts of KC? Yes. Do I feel even the tiny bit guilty about it? Also, yes. This is wrong. He’s my neighbor. Both of us own our houses, when all this is over, we have to see each other… a lot. Like, how am I going to do this, knowing he is right there? Next door? It’s been well over a week of us talking every single day. It felt like speed dating, getting to know this man. Questions, quizzes and conversations that lasted late into the night. The more I got to know him, the more I wanted to know.

I’m just pouring my first cup of coffee when there’s a firm, deliberate knock on my door. I know who it is before I even check.

KC stands on my porch, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his jaw tight. He looks serious—too serious—and something uneasy shifts in my stomach.

I open the door, arms crossing over my chest defensively. Why does he look angry? “Morning.”

His lips press together. “We should talk.”

I step aside, letting him in. He moves past me, bringing the crisp scent of winter air and something uniquely KC into my space. He stops in my living room, back straight, shoulders squared, like he’s bracing for impact.

I take a breath, steadying myself. What is going on? “Okay. Talk.”

He turns to face me. “About last night.”

The words alone are enough to make my heart kick up a notch. I nod, waiting.

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