DADDY'S NAUGHTY PET

Mia's POV

I'd been in love with James Sullivan since I was sixteen years old.

Back then, it had been innocent—just a stupid teenage crush on my best friend's impossibly hot dad. The kind of crush every girl develops at some point: harmless fantasies about the attractive older man who was kind and funny and completely off-limits. I'd blush when he'd ruffle my hair or ask about school, and Harper would roll her eyes at how awkward I got around him.

But that was three years ago, when I'd been a kid with braces and frizzy hair who still giggled at everything.

Now I was nineteen, home from my first year of college for the summer, and when James had opened the door to find me standing on his porch with my suitcase, the way his eyes had traveled down my body—slow and deliberate and hungry—told me this crush wasn't one-sided anymore.

And that changed absolutely everything.

"Mia," he'd said, his voice slightly rougher than I remembered. "You're... wow. You look different."

Different was an understatement. I'd left for college as a gangly eighteen-year-old who hid behind oversized hoodies. I'd come back with actual curves, confidence I'd earned from a year of independence, and the kind of awareness about my own sexuality that made me understand exactly what that look in his eyes meant.

He wanted me.

James Sullivan—Harper's dad, the man I'd been obsessing over for years—wanted me the same way I wanted him.

My heart had hammered so hard I'd thought he could hear it. "Hi, Mr. Sullivan. Is Harper home?"

"James," he'd corrected, something sharp flashing in his eyes. "You're an adult now. No need for Mr. Sullivan anymore."

The way he'd said adult had sent heat pooling between my thighs.

"James," I'd repeated, testing his name on my tongue, watching his jaw clench in response.

That had been this morning. Now, six hours later, I was standing in his backyard in a bikini that left very little to the imagination, acutely aware of his gaze on me from across the pool while Harper splashed around completely oblivious to the tension crackling between her father and her best friend.

Harper had been so excited when I'd shown up—squealing and hugging me and immediately insisting we throw a pool party to celebrate my return. Within an hour, she'd invited half our old high school friends, and now the backyard was full of people drinking, laughing, enjoying the first real day of summer.

But I only cared about one person.

James stood near the grill, pretending to focus on the burgers while his eyes kept finding me. He'd changed into swim trunks and a fitted t-shirt that showed off the body of a man who clearly took care of himself. Broad shoulders, strong arms, flat stomach despite being in his forties. He looked better than any of the college boys I'd been surrounded by all year.

And every time our eyes met, something electric passed between us—acknowledgment of something forbidden and inevitable.

"Earth to Mia!" Harper's voice broke through my thoughts. She was treading water in the deep end, grinning at me. "Stop spacing out and get in here!"

I dove in, the cool water a relief against my overheated skin. Harper immediately started gossiping about drama from her semester, and I tried to focus on her words instead of the fact that James had moved closer to the pool's edge.

"I'm going to grab more drinks," Harper announced after a few minutes. "You want anything?"

"I'm good," I said, and watched her climb out and head toward the house.

Suddenly, James and I were alone in this corner of the pool—everyone else was scattered around the yard, loud enough that no one would overhear a conversation.

He slipped into the water, and I watched him move closer with my heart in my throat. He stopped a few feet away, far enough to look casual but close enough that I could see the water droplets sliding down his chest.

"Having fun?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yeah. It's good to be home." The words came out breathier than I'd intended.

"How was your first year?" He moved slightly closer, and I realized we'd drifted toward the side of the pool where the privacy fence blocked the view from the rest of the yard.

"Good. Learned a lot." Not just in classes, I thought, remembering the disastrous attempts at dating that had only confirmed what I already knew: I didn't want boys my own age.

I wanted him.

"I bet you did." His eyes dropped to my bikini top, then back up, and the heat in his gaze made my breath catch. "You've changed, Mia."

"So have you. I mean—" I fumbled for words. "Not changed, just... I see you differently now."

"How do you see me?" The question was dangerous, loaded.

"Like someone I shouldn't be thinking about the way I think about you," I admitted, my heart pounding.

His hand moved underwater, and suddenly his fingers brushed my thigh—so light it could have been accidental. Except we both knew it wasn't.

"And how do you think about me?" His voice was rough, strained.

"Like this," I whispered, and pressed my leg against his hand.

His fingers squeezed my thigh, and the touch sent electricity through my entire body. We stared at each other, the moment stretching, both of us aware we were crossing a line we couldn't uncross.

"Mia," he said, and it sounded like a warning. "You're nineteen. You're Harper's best friend. This is—"

"I know what it is," I interrupted. "Do you want me to pretend I don't feel this? That I haven't been feeling it for years? Because I can't. Not anymore."

His hand moved higher on my thigh, hidden by the water, and I bit back a moan.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me," he muttered.

"Then show me."

Before either of us could second-guess it, Harper's voice called from the patio. "Dad! Can you help me carry stuff?"

James pulled his hand away like I'd burned him, putting immediate distance between us. "Coming!" he called back, then looked at me with conflict warring plainly on his face. "This can't happen."

But the way he said it—like he was trying to convince himself—told me it absolutely would.

An hour later, Harper cornered me while I was drying off. "Hey, can you do me a huge favor? Dad's got some pool stuff in his office that we need. Can you grab it? I need to help get food plated."

"Sure, where—"

"Home office, second floor, just head up and it's the first door on the right. Thanks!" She bounded away before I could respond.

I stood there for a moment, my stomach in knots, knowing this was either terrible timing or fate giving me exactly what I'd been craving.

I headed inside, the air conditioning raising goosebumps on my damp skin as I climbed the stairs. The house was quiet up here, separated from the party noise below. I found the office easily—a masculine space with dark wood furniture, bookshelves lining the walls, and a large desk covered in architectural drawings.

I was looking around for whatever pool supplies Harper had mentioned when I heard footsteps behind me.

I turned to find James in the doorway, and the look on his face told me he hadn't come up here to help me find anything.

"Harper sent me to—" I started.

"I know," he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. The click of the lock seemed impossibly loud. "There's nothing up here. She just wanted help with food."

Oh.

So we were alone. Completely alone, with a locked door and everyone else occupied downstairs.

"We should go back," I said, but I didn't move.

"We should," he agreed, but he stepped closer instead.

"James—"

"Tell me to leave." He stopped inches away from me, close enough that I could smell chlorine and his cologne. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk out that door right now."

I looked up at him—this man I'd fantasized about for years, who was finally, impossibly looking at me like I was something he desperately wanted—and I couldn't lie.

"I can't tell you that," I whispered.

"Fuck," he muttered, and then his mouth was on mine.