Page 48 of Second Chance Daddy
“You were made for this,” I grind out, pace brutal now, hips pistoning like every thrust’s got my name branded on it. “Made for me.”
She tries to answer, but all that comes out is a wrecked sob of my name—broken, breathless, dripping with need.
Her body clenches tighter, that sweet, sinful heat wrapping around me, her thighs trembling where they lock around mywaist. I know that look—know the way her lashes flutter, the way her nails scrape down my spine. She’s close—so close she can barely breathe.
“Come for me,” I demand, voice sharp, rough, possessive as hell. “Wanna feel you lose it, Cass.”
And she does—God, she does. Her body seizes under mine, thighs quaking, back arching clean off the counter, those filthy little curses tumbling from her mouth, breath jagged, eyes glazed as she falls apart completely for me.
The sight of her breaking, the sound of my name on her lips? It wrecks me. I slam into her one final time, deep, hard, brutal—and I lose it, my release hitting like a freight train, hips stuttering as I bury myself to the hilt, groaning low.
We stay like that—tangled, breathless, wrecked.
Finally, I straighten and ease out of her gently. Her eyes are dazed, her lips swollen from kissing, her hair a mess. She’s never looked more beautiful.
I cup a cheek in my hand, press a softer kiss to her lips. “You okay?”
She nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Then it fades, replaced by something more serious.
“I wish I could tell you everything,” she whispers, her eyes searching mine.
I brush my thumb over her cheekbone, feeling something heavy settle in my chest. “Me too.”
13
CASSIE
Jesus Christ, I’m the walking PSA your mama warns you about—the dumbass who falls straight back into bed with the man who left her once and signs up for round two like it’s some loyalty rewards program.
Somehow, I made it from his kitchen counter to my bedroom. Don’t ask me how. My brain’s still recalibrating what his mouth did to me… from the way his hands rearranged my DNA.
I scooped Aria off Dante’s leather couch, tucked her into bed, and sprinted to my room like a quiet thief in the night—because one more second around him? I’d have made the same stupid mistake twice.
And now I feel hollowed out, like someone scraped my insides clean and stitched skin over the mess. That’s what Dante does to me—he wrecks my body so bad I forget what it used to feel like when it was just mine.
The worst part? I want him. I want him so bad my molars ache. But the guilt? It’s coming in hot, rolling in like tidal waves, each one higher than the last.
I stare at the ceiling, throat tight, heart doing somersaults against my ribs. The words hover, heavy, life-ending:She’s yours. Aria’s yours. I’ve lied to everyone.
God, I’m such a coward.
It’s been two days.Forty-eight hours of reliving the sex, marinating in my bloodstream while I try to remember how to breathe without thinking of his hands on me.
I can’t breathe right. Can’t sleep right. Can’t look Dante in the eye without hearing the lie rattle between my ribs like loose change. The truth festers in my chest, coiled tight around my heart, squeezing every time I watch him with her.
He’s everywhere lately. In the kitchen, hovering by the coffee pot. Out in the backyard, teaching Aria how to toss a damn baseball. The kid I know is more of an indoor girl. But she loves it, loveshim.
And I’m drowning in it.
She giggles when he lifts her high, tiny hands clutching his shoulders for safety. He calls her “Nugget” now. His voice is low, soft, and all rough-edged affection that makes my throat burn.
I go looking for Aria one evening after I drag my exhausted ass home from Honey & Hearth. Tina’s been a sweetheart—practically bullied me into letting her watch Aria so I could work—but the house is way too quiet when I walk in.
I can’t find Aria, so I walk through the house.
What I see lands me straight in a parallel universe I clearly wasn’t prepared for.
There they are.
