Page 3 of Bound to the Daddy

Clearing my throat, I shove aside all of those wrong feelings and focus on answering the question. “Since I first started doing group projects with Brody.” Unable to fully articulate why it feels so wrong without also betraying these inappropriate feelings, I merely shrug, hoping for it to settle this and end the conversation. “Sorry. Something about calling you Rex just doesn’t feel right.”

His soft chuckle floods the room, making my head spin, as he leans forward. “Would calling me Daddy feel better? More right somehow?”

My world tips for a moment as I stare at the man, dumbfounded by what I just heard. But then he laughs even harder, throwing his head back as if it’s all a huge joke.

“I- I don’t know if that’s...”

He shakes his head and smiles. “Just a little dad humor. Think nothing of it. But you do realize you’re a grown woman. Right? You don’t have to call me Mr. Anything. Rex is perfectly acceptable.”

“I get that, Mr.- Rex,” I fumble. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

He brushes off my words as he looks around. “Where’s Brody? I want to speak with him.”

“Oh. Sorry. You just missed him. He’s at a meeting.”

With a fierce frown that makes my insides clench, he leans past me to flip through the calendar. The heat from his skin scalds me, even through both of our clothes. Every breath is laced with the scent of cologne and the unmistakable spice of his skin.

God, have I ever been this close to him before? It’s insanity. That’s what this is. I shouldn’t want my boyfriend’s dad. It’s just sexual frustration that has me wanting his touch, even if it’s just an innocent pat on my shoulder.

But he doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t even brush up against me as he pulls back, his frown even deeper. “Damned DCC. Such a stupid waste of time and money.”

“Exactly what I said,” I grumble, grabbing a few things off the counter so I can put them in the sink.

“You always were a smart girl.” He pauses and crinkles his nose. “What are you doing? We have a maid for that.”

“Brody said she wasn’t coming and asked if I could clean up. I mean... I use this space too, occasionally… So. I figure why not.”

With an exasperated sigh,theRex Rothsbourne takes the dishes from me and puts them into the sink himself. “I’ll get Emily to come over and clean this place up. It’s not your job to do. I swear, some days, I feel like you’re way too good for my son.”

I shrug, not sure how else to respond. “I mean, this is probably going to be my last time here, anyway. It’s the least I can do.” Again, not at all what I need to be saying, but it seems as if my mouth just doesn’t want to obey me right now.

His eyes narrow as he looks me up and down. “Oh?” He growls, once more invading my space. “Did my son do something to you?” There’s a concern there underneath his stern gaze, but there’s also something more, something… primal.

I must be reading into things. There’s no way Mr. Rothsbourne can feel anything for me other than familial concern. It’s just not right otherwise.

“No,” I groan as my mouth and brain refuse to cooperate with each other. “That’s the problem.” I clap a hand over my mouth, heat pouring off my face as I look down at the floor.

Fucking mouth. Fucking brain. Fucking everything going wrong today.

An irritated sigh flits from my lips as I look around to make sure I’m not leaving anything behind. “Sorry. Gotta run. My shift starts in a bit, and I want to clean up first.”

“There’s a shower right behind you,” he says in that ridiculously erotic rasp of his.

Is it my imagination, or does his eyes get darker as he talks to me? Shaking my head, I dispel the notion and note his eyes are just his normal, intense dark blue that they always are.

“I’ve been here long enough. It’s okay. I still have hot water back at my place. For now at least,” I tease. Instantly, I sober up as his expression turns concerned. “It’s a joke. Albeit a dumb one. Seeing as you probably never had to deal with stuff like this,” I babble. “You know, I’m going to shut up now.”

“Do you need any money?” Without waiting for me to say anything, he reaches for his wallet like it’s nothing.

Just like Brody. It means nothing. And to be chucking it at me so freely makes me wonder if I truly mean nothing. Or if I’m just another commodity to them.

“Brody already gave me some. It’s all good.”

“Not that digital crap,” he growls out.

“No.” A nervous giggle erupts from my throat. “Not digital.”

“Listen.” His voice turns deadly serious as he steps in closer. “I’ve known you for years now. You’re like a daughter to me in some ways. If you need anything. And I mean anything. Trust me to take care of anything. I’m good for it.”

---