Coming September 29, 2022
My best friend’s hot older brother, who regularly threatens me like he’s my long lost Daddy, is totally off limits. But when things get out of hand at a party, the off-limits part gets kind of fuzzy and deliciously wicked things follow.
I promised to take care of her but I fucked up. I was supposed to be her family. But dammit resisting her was hard enough before she called me Daddy.
“Goodnight, Nia.” His words are clipped and impatient. “Spare room’s upstairs.” He points up indicating the upper level of the house.
“Fuck you, Hawking. I’ll Uber.”
“Not tonight, sweetheart.”
His expression is unreadable so I don’t know if he’s referring to the ‘fuck you’ or the ‘Uber’ and not knowing has me off kilter for a second.
“Get out of my way,” I say, shoving him—hard. Mostly because I want to touch him and the safest way is in anger.
Hawke doesn’t budge with my shove and my eyes widen in surprise. Seems he’s more sinewy than scrawny. “What’s hidden behind that nerdy black tee, Hawking?” I ask in sarcastic flirtatiousness before lifting the hem of his shirt. I stare, admittedly a little dumbfounded, at the rippled abs between his tee and low-slung jeans.
“Damn.” My eyes flick up to his and the most regretful sentence leaves my brain like a freight train, right out my big intoxicated mouth. “Daddy’s got an eight-pack.”
Shit. My eyes dart away and then tentatively land back on his. Embarrassment flushes through me at the heat in his returned stare and the grin on his lips. I can literally feel my face paling so I grab for the door handle, wrench it open, and launch my drunk ass out into the cool evening. And just when I think I’ve escaped and can get to the part of this night where I forget him, I’m yanked back against the solid body I just made a fool out of myself over.
Time stops. The party sounds fade and I hear my breath go in, out, in, and out again. His arms tighten around my middle, pressing my back against his hot front, and I feel his breath go in and out.
“I said you’re sleeping upstairs.” His words rumble against my back before I feel the heat of them, hot and raspy, against my ear and a shiver runs right through me.
I pull away, for my own sanity, spinning on him. My alcohol-pickled brain fights between staying to further bait him and going upstairs before I say something else embarrassing. But the debate ends when I see my keys sticking out of his pocket.
I increase my height by stepping up onto the first stair and rising onto my tiptoes. I grab his T-shirt, fisting it in my hands, and as slow as I can, I press my lips to his hard frowny mouth. It takes a few seconds of soft prying to coax his lips to relax. But, oh, hell, when they do, I’m sunk. I almost forget my plan as one of his hands slides up my neck, into my hair, and the other hot palm cups my face. When he slides his full bottom lip under mine, nibbles and sucks it in, I think I forget my own name. Shivers scatter across my skin. His kiss, slow and deep, feels like the most intimate moment of my life.
Feeling myself melt into the hot and skillful kiss, I fight to remember what I’m doing. Releasing his shirt with one hand, I slide my palm down his hard chest, past his ribs to his muscled side, stopping at his hip where my sneaky fingers clutch my keys.
I do a little hop back, forgetting the stairs, and I’m suddenly falling. Hawke’s heavily lidded eyes snap wide and he catches me, before my back hits the stairs. His eyes, dark pools of heat, suddenly cool as they land on the keys still jingling in my hand. His fingers, gripping my middle, tighten.
Startled by the near miss and his stern glare, my heart pounds and the room spins or maybe that’s me. And then, I’m upended, and the world is spinning from a different angle.
“Teasing me is one thing, but tricking me so you can drive your drunken ass home is a serious no-no, little girl. And that stunt could have broken your back, Nia. You’re a bloody accident waiting to happen.”
Little girl? God, that’s not a new one but it hits differently now that we’ve kissed—now that I’m upended and pressed against his hard, hot body.
His words make my stomach dip and twist, or maybe that’s from being upside-down. “Put me down, Hawking!” I squirm over his shoulder and he tightens his grip across my thighs.
“Stop wiggling, you naughty little brat.”
Naughty little brat? Oh, man. S.U.N.K.
One book—one sexy Daddy book—and I’m fucking ruined.
“You deserve what you’re going to get.”
I flush with heat at his words, and thank the good lord above I decided to wear panties because my arousal would surely seep between my thighs without them. Hell, it may already have.
“And what do I deserve, Daddy Hawke?” I blurt, knowing I’m going to regret those words tomorrow, but right now in my alcohol haze, I’m in a fun house and everything is distorted in a very sexy way.
He moans and it sounds tortured, but I’m really drunk and can’t trust my own ears. Could it have been an ‘ew, gross’ groan instead? I stop moving on his shoulder, feeling one part anxious diluted by three parts excitement. I don’t know what it is I want him to say, but I’m wild with want and I’m willing to push him as far as it takes to find out.
“Nia.” He says my name like he’s barely hanging on to his self-control and I can’t take it.
More words bubble up from my deepest, darkest, secret place. “A spanking, Daddy? Is that what I deserve? Go ahead, spank me. I might enjoy it. In fact, I know I will.” The last of the tequila I drank must have been fully absorbed now because I giggle without even a hint of embarrassment. Hawke shifts suddenly, setting me down on my feet. I wobble a little, but he steadies me with both his hands and his eyes.
“Nia, you’re drunk.” He cups my chin with one of his big hands and examines my face, which feels as if it’s both flushed with arousal and flaming hot at his sudden, and humiliating, rejection. “Don’t get me wrong, that’s exactly what you deserve, little one, and trust me, you wouldn’t enjoy it…” The corner of his mouth quirks up in the sexiest way, making my stomach flip involuntarily, before he adds, “Unless I wanted you to.”