Page 49 of Filthy Rich Temptation
‘Da-na! Finished!’
She straightens up at speed, and I shoot forward, hands hovering. The last thing I need is my tiny dictator face-planting off the chair, but she’s surprisingly steady, all proud stance and toddler confidence.
‘High five?’ I say, holding up my hand.
She frowns at it. ‘Five?’
‘Like this.’
I gently tap her hand against mine and repeat, ‘High five.’
‘High five!’ She grins and her legs launch into an excited jig that sees the chair wobbling and my heart goes with it.
‘Easy!’ I swing her down to solid ground before my fear can play out.
‘Breakfast is served,’ Sadie says, coming up behind us with a tray piled high, and for the umpteenth time this morning, I lose my mind.
The gym gear she’s wearing is brutal… like tight, revealing, seven-year-memory-triggering brutal.
And I thought PJ-clad Sadie was bad enough. But Lycra? Fuck me, Lycra!
It should be banned in close quarters. Banned altogether, without question.
Maybe I need to enforce a dress code…
No flimsy PJs.
No short shorts.
No Lycra.
Bra MANDATORY.
Though notthisbra.
This one squeezes her breasts together just right, and the only thing I can picture is pushing myself between them while she— Nope! I flee for the coffee before my cock fully wakes up.
‘I didn’t realise cooking a mammoth breakfast required marathon clothing?’ I say, returning a few sanitising moments later.
She blushes up at me. ‘Yeah, sorry about that.’
Hell, why is she the one apologising when you’re the one perving?!
‘I wasn’t complaining.’
Fuck, what are you saying?!
‘I mean, it’s fine, you wear what you want to wear, I was just?—’
You were what? Ogling her? Freaking out? Back-pedalling?
She’s in the middle of loading up Lottie’s plate but she stops, glances at me, blue eyes dancing, brows raised.
‘I’m just going to get the syrup,’ I say, doing an about-turn.
‘We already have the?—’
‘You can never have enough!’ I call back. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Unloading in the shower was supposed to help, but damn Jack’s cocked and ready to blow.
