Page 9 of Daddy

Thank God! Where the hell have you been?

Rory’s

Shut the fuck up!

No, don’t. Tell me!

I laugh to myself as I dial her number to give her every sordid detail. It rings once before she answers, “You slut! Tell me everything.”

Fuck, I love her.

“First, I know he isn’tactuallyan Evans… but fuck, from the waist down, you’d swear they’re all related.”

She cackles into the phone so loudly that it reverberates off the metal walls of the elevator as I reach the ground floor.

* * *

I spent most of the morning on the phone with Layla. After giving her a play-by-play commentary that rivals ESPN, we talked about me actually seeing him again. It’s been a while—a long while—since I’ve been on more than one date with the same man, especially two nights in a row.Although, technically, last night was more of a booty call than a date.

Our conversation and heading to his place are the only things I can think about during my shortened shift. I glance at the clock—10:42 p.m.—and pull out my phone.

Is this a good idea?

Do I really want to be FWB or start a situationship with him?

What if it goes south? And then I still have to see him all the time?

LAYLA

And what if it doesn’t?

Or…what if it’s more than that for him?

You mean, like he actually wants to date me?

OMG. Is that so horrible?

Horrible? No.Terrifying? Abso-fucking-lutely.

By the time I reach Rory’s, I’m an antsy ball of anxiety and nerves. I knock on his door and feel like I’m about to burst as I wait for him to answer. He opens the door and greets me with a tender smile—a sharp contrast to his otherwise gruff demeanor. “Right on time.” He reaches out, and his fingers brush along my arm as he ushers me into the apartment. “Good boy.”

Those two little words have me ready to fall to my knees for him again.

And I’m fucked.

CHAPTERTWELVE

RORY

My eyes flick to the clock on the wall, and I check the time again before glancing back to the door.Jorge should be here any minute now. He’s been here every night this past week, and every night, I can’t wait for him to arrive.

I’ve spent years keeping men—and any semblance of a relationship—at arm’s length. It’s how I’ve survived, separating my personal life from my chaotic one. But Jorge… he doesn’t fit into the neat little boxes I’ve constructed. He lives neck deep in my chaos, knowing full well the things I do for the Evans family.

And while I could try to deny it, this isn’t a repeating casual, no-strings encounter. This is so much more. Iwantto be around him.With him. And while the sex is nothing short of amazing, it’s the moments after that I long for when he isn’t here. His laugh and sharp wit. The way he talks about life like it’s a story being written one chapter at a time. Connecting with him like I’ve never connected with another man—deeply. Even the quiet moments—curled up together in bed—feel significant.

A gentle knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. Standing from the couch, I make my way over and pull it open. Jorge’s face lights up when he sees me, his lips lifting slightly as a smile spreads across his face. He steps inside with confidence, and before I can say anything, his lips are on mine. Returning his kiss and matching his urgency, I use our bodies to close the door.

It slams with a thud as we land against it. With our bodies pinned together, I can feel his heart thumping against mine. My hands wander his body as my lips aggressively trail along the length of his neck. Kissing below his ear, I whisper, “How’s my good boy?”

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