Page 64 of Second Chance Daddy

Maybe I’m not ready either.

“I don’t know what you’re hiding, Cass…” I step in, crowding her, my palm sliding along her waist, fingers curling into the soft cotton of her dress, “…but I’m going to find out.”

Her mouth opens, but the words stall, hovering between us like smoke, thick with all the things neither of us are saying.

The space between us hums, stretched tight, every molecule charged like the storm’s about to break. I watch her chest rise and fall, quick, shallow, her pulse flickering wildly at the base of her throat.

One more step and there’s no coming back.

Yeah, I’ve got no brakes where she’s concerned—and I’m about to run this straight off the edge.

My hand slides from her waist up to her jaw, fingers threading into her hair. Soft, wild strands tangle through my grip as I tip her face toward mine.

I feel the tension ripple off her, the fight warring with the fire.

“Say something.” My thumb grazes the curve of her cheek. “Say anything—so I don’t do something we can’t take back.”

But her lips part, and instead of words, all I get is a little whimper, and her eyes fall to my lips. She leans in, ever-so-slightly, and yeah… senses got nothing on the man about to kiss the woman he’s always burned for.

I dip my head, hovering there for a second, close enough to feel the heat off her skin, to see the way her lashes flutter like she’s barely holding it together.

Her breath ghosts across my mouth, shaky, uneven, pulling me under.

Then our lips brush up against each other, soft as silk, and the next thing I know, her hands fist my shirt, yanking me closer like she’s starved for this.

My hands slide down her sides, beneath her dress, up her thighs. Her skin is warm, soft, and perfect under my palms. I trace each curve, each dip, mapping territory I’ve claimed before but never really learned.

If she’s been keeping my child from me, I want to know every inch of the woman who’s done it.

“You want the truth?” She breathes against my lips. “Come get it.”

She kisses me harder then, fierce, ferocious, all teeth and tongue and punishing need. It’s a distraction, and we both know it. But fuck if I’m not falling for it anyway.

My body responds like it’s wired to her frequency, hardening instantly, hands gripping tighter. She tears at my shirt, nails scraping skin as she drags it up and over my head.

“You think you can fuck the truth out of me?” She challenges, eyes wild, fingers already working at my belt.

“No.” I grab her wrists, pinning them to her sides. “But I can make you want to tell me.”

Her pupils blow wide, dark with lust. “You’re so sure of yourself.”

“About this?” I grind against her, letting her feel exactly what she does to me. “Always.”

She breaks free of my grip and pushes me back toward the bed. There’s something new in her eyes tonight—a recklessness, a rebellion. Like she’s done playing defense.

“Sit.” She shoves at my chest.

I obey, curious where this is going. She drops to her knees between my legs, and my cock jumps at the sight alone.

“You want answers?” she asks, hands sliding up my thighs, teasing at the waistband of my jeans. “Let me give you something else instead.”

She throws my belt across the room, pops the button, and drags the zipper down with excruciating slowness. My breath catches as her fingers brush against me through the thin fabric of my boxers.

I instantly lift my hips, my body already craving what’s to come.

I raise up, letting her tug my jeans and boxers down in one fucking go. My cock springs free, already hard enough to hurt.

She looks up at me, a wicked smile curving her lips. “Still think you can make me talk?”