Page 30 of Daddy's Girl

She turns slowly, those eyes that haunt my dreams now rimmed with red.

“You’re guilty you weren’t there for my father. At the end. You told me you were sorry you weren’t there.”

“I am sorry about that. I’ll live with that. That has nothing, not one fucking thing to do with you being here with me. The way I want you. The things we do.”

She shrugs. Tough little brat but I’m tougher.

"You think I'm here out of guilt?" I ask, the question clearly expecting an answer so we can figure this out and move the fuck on.

She nods, fingers twisting in the hem of her new dress. "It makes sense. Why else would someone like you want someone like me? A favor to an old friend. A debt you're repaying."

"Someone like me?" The question comes out sharper than I intended.

"Mountain man. Ex-military. Built like a—" She gestures vaguely at my body, her eyes dropping to where my cock is already thickening against my zipper. "You could have anyone. Why would you want some broke teenager with daddy issues unless you promised him you'd look after me?" Her voice hardens, a brittle edge of defiance cutting through the hurt. "With a little kink thrown in for fun, I guess. Makes babysitting the obligation more interesting."

A growl rises in my throat, primal and possessive. My fingers wrap around her wrist, engulfing it completely, tugging until her palm rests against my chest. My heart hammers beneath her touch, a battering ram against my ribs.

"Feel that?" I say, holding her hand in place. "That's not guilt. That's not obligation. That's what you do to me, every fucking second since I pulled you from that river. Since I saw those nipples hard beneath your wet shirt and knew I'd die if I didn't taste them."

She blinks, confusion and hope warring in her expression.

"Let me make something real clear, Delaney Hart. I don't want you because of your dad. I want you because you're mine. Because you were always meant to be mine. I’ve run my life on instinct, it’s one of the only things I trust, and my instinct is spot on when it comes to you. To us. I’m not so sure about God and all that, but you were created for me. I’ve been sitting up on this mountain like an asshole for years, waiting but not knowing I was waiting, until there you fucking were, hanging like you were dropped down from heaven on a rope swing over my river. That’s a fucking sign right there, and it punched me right in the balls. I don’t ignore my instincts, that shit will get you killed."

She draws a shaky breath. I feel her pulse jump beneath my fingers where they circle her wrist. Feel her body leaning toward mine despite her doubts.

“That’s a lot.” She clears her throat, softening a bit.

“Yeah, it’s a fucking lot. A lot of fucking words. All at once. I haven’t said that many words all at once probably in my fucking life. So, I get it, you’re going to drive me fucking crazy, and sometimes you’re going to think I’m an idiot, because, yeah, sometimes I am. But we’re going to work it all out. You’re going to be a pain in the ass, and I’m going to fuck your ass. Turn it pink, kiss it, bite it and lick your little pucker hole like I know you like it. That’s my ass, and you don’t forget it.”

I lean in, my voice dropping to the register that makes her pupils dilate. “You’re on a roll there, Daddy.”

That name goes straight to my balls.

"I knew my name was gonna sound filthy coming out of your mouth that first time I saw you, and I didn't want it any other way."

I press a kiss beneath her ear, grateful when she doesn't pull away this time.

A cardinal lands on a branch beside the truck, bright red against the green. The same damn bird that made me swerve, I'm sure of it. It cocks its head, watching us with that beady black eye.

Mom used to say cardinals were visits from those who'd left us—that when you see one, it means someone you've lost is checking in. Normally I'd call that sentimental bullshit, but something about the way it perches there, makes the hair on my neck stand up.

Delaney shifts across the bench seat toward me, the last of the distance closing as she crawls into my lap, straddling me behind the wheel.

“That’s my girl.” I tuck her hair behind her ears, tugging on her lobes for a second. Her new dress rides up her thighs as she settles, barely covering the curve of her ass. I can feel her heat through my jeans, the damp patch already forming where she's pressed against me.

Eighteen and mine. Old and young. So fucking young. But my dick and my heart don’t care. Her small hands disappear into my beard, tugging.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. “This is a lot. I still look around and wonder if I’m hallucinating.”

"You’re not. So, we’re clear?" I ask, hands finding her hips, anchoring her to me. "No doubts about why I want you here?"

She nods, one hand falling down my chest, floating over my ribs then down until she’s toying with the chain that connects my wallet to my belt loop. I caught her eyeing it this morning while I was paying at the boutique, curiosity evident in her expression.

I shut her down when she asked to see my driver's license photo at the store. But my guess is she wants to see if I still have her picture in my wallet. The one my stupid brother brought up at the cabin.

“You want to see my driver’s license picture?”

"Maybe," she admits, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I bet you look like an inmate."

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