Page 25 of Second Chance Daddy
I’m not letting you slip through my fingers again.
I catch up with her. “Let’s get you a drink,” I offer, because if I open my mouth and say what I’m thinking? We’ll have bigger problems.
“I won’t mind something strong,” she says, like being here is the worst idea in the world. Her eyes dart past me to the bar.
Me too, sweetheart.I need steel cables and a straitjacket to survive you standing this close.
As we walk to get her that drink, my gaze drifts over her—hips swaying, shirt clinging to curves I remember too well. It’s torture, plain and simple, standing still when my body’s ready to pin her to the nearest flat surface.
I caused her enough trouble. Enough grief. This isn’t about me.
I get her the drink. Double bourbon, neat—because from what I remember, the girl could drink a group of boys under the table and still walk out like nothing happened.
I hold the glass out.
She reaches for it, those pretty fingers brushing mine?—
Zap.
It’s not a spark—it’s a fucking electric fence snapping to life between us. My pulse hits the gas. Her eyes jerk up, wide, like maybe she felt it too.
I shouldn’t enjoy that look so much. But I do. Hell, it feeds me.
Her hand tightens on the glass. I could swear her grip falters, just for a second, but she masks it like the pro she is. Still, her cheeks flush that soft pink I’ve seen up close, pressed against me, panting my name.
“Careful,” I murmur, voice rougher than intended. “Strong pour.”
Her throat works like she’s swallowing words better left buried. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, playing it cool. But her fingers are trembling.
Tina’s shriek shatters the moment like a rock through glass.
“Cassie! You made it.”
She barrels toward us like we’re filmingReal Housewives: Lake Edition—blonde ponytail bouncing, designer shades shoved on top of her head, already four mimosas deep, judging by the chaos in her eyes.
Cassie practically exhales relief, like I’m the villain in this scene. And maybe I am. Maybe I look too much like trouble.
But that relief? Yeah, that part cuts.
My jaw ticks as my gaze rakes down Cassie’s legs, those denim cut-off pants hugging her curves like sex was sewn into the seams. The shirt’s unbuttoned just enough to fuck with my pulse. Hair messy, lips pink from chewing on them.
She looks… fuck, she looks edible.
And the idea that Tina’s parading her into a yard full of half-drunk, useless rich boys who can’t spell “commitment”?
Yeah, no thanks.
I lean in as they pass, voice low, sharp with a smirk. “Half the guys here couldn’t find their dicks with both hands, and a map.”
Tina gasps, scandalized, but grinning. “They’re our friends, asshole. And cousins.”
“Exactly.” I arch a brow, deadpan. “The gene pool’s not deep around here.”
Cassie snorts under her breath, eyes darting away, and I swear she’s fighting a smile.
Tina rolls her eyes, still dragging Cassie toward the patio. “Behave, Dante. And don’t scare the new arrivals.”
I lift my hands in mock surrender. “I’m the one they should be scared of?”
