Boss Daddy: Chapter 17

I sigh, trying to figure out where to go from here. “We need some more coffee and a real conversation. Come on.”

Erin nods, following me into the kitchen without a word. I make a fresh batch of coffee as I try to figure out how to explain my past. She leans against the counter, watching me. She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t push, and somehow that makes it easier.

I pour hot water over the fresh beans, the rich aroma filling the air, and exhale slowly.

No time like the present.

“It was eight years ago,” I begin. “Kara, my wife, and I were driving back from a fundraiser. It was late, and there was a horrible storm. The roads were slick, and visibility was shit.”

Erin doesn’t move, her eyes locked on mine, giving me the space to continue.

“A car swerved into our lane.” My grip tightens on the handle of the French press. “I tried to avoid it, but there wasn’t enough time. We crashed. She died on impact.”

She takes a sharp breath but doesn’t speak immediately. I glance at her, then press down slowly on the plunger, letting the coffee settle.

“Oh my God,” she says softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve carried that night—and the guilt—with me ever since,” I say. “It was my fault. I was driving. I shouldn’t have been such a goddamn stubborn son of a bitch. I should’ve listened to her when she asked me to pull over.”

“It wasn’t your fault—”

“I know what you’re trying to say,” I cut her off. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I was behind the wheel that night. And for a long time, I didn’t think I deserved to move on.”

She doesn’t respond right away, just watches me, her expression softening. “But you’re trying to now.”

“Maybe,” I say, pouring the coffee into two clean mugs and sliding one toward her. “But it’s not easy. Hell, I’m not even sure if moving on is an option.”

Erin takes the mug, her fingers brushing mine briefly, and something in her gaze shifts. “I didn’t mean to pry,” she says. “I just needed to know.”

“And now that you do, where does that leave us?”

She holds my gaze and takes my hand. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

I hold onto her hand longer than I probably should, but I don’t care. There’s a calmness in her presence I don’t understand, and maybe I don’t need to. For the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like I’m standing on the edge of something ready to collapse.

She breaks the silence. “So. Diane and Robert. What’s the deal there?”

Her question brings a smile to my face. I set my mug down, crossing my arms over my chest as I lean back against the counter. “They’re Kara’s parents, as I’m sure you’ve figured out. After the accident, they were all I had, and I was all they had. We got through the worst of it together.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And now?”

“Now,” I continue, “we meet up every so often. A cup of coffee, a conversation. Lunch, now and then. They ask how I’m doing. We talk about Kara sometimes, sometimes we don’t. It’s not complicated.”

Her lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “That’s decent of you.”

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “It wasn’t about being decent. We needed each other. I’m not the kind of man to keep people in my life if I don’t want them there. They stayed family because we survived a tragedy together.”

Her eyes flash and I know there’s more coming. “They sure seemed to know a lot about me.”

He shrugs. “I may have mentioned my stellar new bartender once or twice.”

“And they’re not upset to find another woman in their son-in-law’s home? They don’t think I’m trying to make you forget Kara?”

“You’re not trying to do that,” I say.

She purses her lips. “You’re right. And I’d never ask you to forget her. But they don’t know that.”

I straighten, my gaze locking onto hers. “You think too much. They’ve been telling me for years to find someone. Saying Kara wouldn’t want me to be alone. That she’d want me to move on. I think seeing you here made them happy.”

She blinks, caught off guard. “Happy?” she echoes. “You’re telling me they were happy to see you with a new woman?”

“You’re damn right. You should hear them,” I say with a chuckle. “They’re always trying to set me up with one friend’s daughter or another. They know I’ll never forget Kara. But they don’t want me dwelling on it, either, just like she wouldn’t have.”

Silence fills the air, and there’s no doubt in my mind Erin doesn’t know quite what to say. Finally, she steps closer, her hands finding mine again, her grip firm. “Thank you,” she says. “For telling me. For trusting me with this.”

I look at her, my heart warming as I gaze at her face, her steady gaze, the raw honesty there. She deserves more than words. I let go of her hands to cup her face, tilting her chin up. There’s no hesitation as I claim her mouth with mine. She melts into me, her hands sliding up to grip my shirt, holding on like I’m the only thing keeping her steady.

When I finally pull back, her lips are swollen, her breathing uneven, but she doesn’t look away. I press my forehead to hers, my voice low. “You’re not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”

Erin’s lips are soft, pliant, and I lose myself in her taste, in the way her body molds against me like she was made to fit. My hands grip her waist, pulling her closer, needing to feel every inch of her.

“I need you,” she whispers.

I don’t say a word, just lift her into my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist. Her hands find my shoulders, holding on as I carry her to the bedroom. It’s not a slow walk—I’m a man on a mission, and that mission is her. By the time I lower her onto the bed, I’m barely holding on to what’s left of my control.

She looks up at me, her eyes dark and full of lust, her hair a wild mess against the pillows. “You’re staring again,” she teases.

“Can you blame me?” I claim her mouth again, my kiss hard, demanding.

My hands unbutton her shirt just enough to push it up and over her head, exposing smooth, bare skin. Her bra follows, and I take a moment to look at her, to let my eyes roam over every curve, every inch. She shivers under my gaze.

I lower my head, my lips finding the curve of her neck, the dip of her collarbone, before finally closing around her nipple. She arches into me.

Her taste, her scent, her sounds… everything about her is addictive.

I’ll never get enough.

I trail my hands down her body, undoing the button on her jeans and sliding them down her legs, smirking at the sight of no panties. She’s bare and all mine.

“Samuel,” she breathes.

I lower myself between her legs, my hands gripping her thighs, spreading her wide, her pink slit glistening. I take my time, letting her feel my breath against her, the anticipation making her squirm.

Then I taste her.

She moans, her back arching. I hold her steady as my tongue works her in slow, firm strokes. She tastes like honey. She trembles as I push her closer and closer to the edge.

When she finally falls, her cries fill the room, her fingers gripping the sheets as she comes undone.

I don’t let her rest. I keep going, coaxing another climax from her, watching as she falls apart again, her body arching, her thighs trembling. By the time I move up her body, her chest is heaving, her skin flushed, and she’s looking at me like I’m her whole damn world.

“Please,” she whispers. “I need more.”

I free myself from my sweatpants, my body already aching for hers. I take hold of my cock by the base, pushing into her slowly, closing my eyes and focusing on the way her pussy grips me, warm and perfect. I hold fast for a moment, wanting to savor the feeling.

But then she moves her hips, her body urging mine, and I lose the last shred of my restraint.

I set a rhythm, slow at first, letting her feel every inch of me, but it doesn’t take long before the need overtakes us both. I move faster, drinking in the way she looks underneath me, her legs wrapped around my waist, her breasts bouncing with each deep plunge.

“Samuel,” she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders. Her body tightens around me, and I know she’s close.

“Come for me,” I growl, my fingers finding her clit, circling it in time with my movements.

Her body clenches, and she cries out again, her release pulling me even deeper into her. I keep moving, chasing my own climax, as she pulls me down for a kiss, her lips soft and yielding.

“One more,” she whispers.

I give her everything, my pace relentless, my hands gripping her hips as I drive us both over the edge. She falls first, her body tightening, her moans muffled against my shoulder. The sensation pulls me under, and with one last thrust, I follow her, my release ripping through me as I bury myself to the root.

When I’m done, I slide out of her slowly, falling to her side and wrapping her in my arms. She nuzzles her face into my shoulder, kissing me gently.

“You’re mine,” I whisper.

She smiles, her fingers trailing along my chest.

“Yes I am.”