Do You Want Me, Daddy

James's POV

I was forty-two years old and I'd just fucked my daughter's nineteen-year-old best friend on my desk while Harper was downstairs hosting a pool party.

I should have felt guilty. Should have been drowning in self-loathing and shame. Should have been planning how to end this before it went any further, before someone got hurt, before my entire life imploded from one catastrophically bad decision.

Instead, all I could think about was when I'd get to touch her again.

The taste of Mia's mouth. The way she'd looked at me with those dark eyes full of want and trust. The feeling of being inside her—so tight, so responsive, so fucking perfect. The sounds she'd made when she came.

I was going to hell, and I didn't even care.

It had been two days since the pool party. Two days of Harper talking about how great it was to have Mia back, completely oblivious to the fact that her father had taken her best friend's virginity against his desk. Two days of Mia's texts burning a hole in my phone, each one more tempting than the last.

Mia: I can't stop thinking about you.

Mia: About what we did.

Mia: About what I want you to do to me next.

I'd tried to maintain some semblance of responsibility. Tried to text back with things like We need to talk about this and This situation is complicated and other meaningless bullshit that neither of us believed.

But the truth was simple and devastating: I wanted her. Had wanted her since she'd shown up on my doorstep looking like every fantasy I'd been trying to suppress for the past year. And now that I'd had her once, the idea of stopping felt impossible.

Which is how I found myself standing in my kitchen on a Friday evening, watching Harper pack a bag for the weekend, knowing that in approximately thirty minutes I'd be completely alone with Mia for the first time since we'd crossed that line.

"You sure you're okay with me going to Mom's?" Harper asked for the third time, shoving clothes into her duffel.

"Of course," I said, hoping I sounded normal instead of like a man who was barely holding himself together. "You should spend time with your mother. I'll be fine."

"I know, but you'll be all alone—" She stopped, her face brightening. "Oh! I should ask Mia to come stay! Like old times! She can keep you company."

My heart stopped. "That's not necessary—"

"No, it's perfect! You guys can hang out, and she won't be bored at her parents' place. I'm calling her right now." She was already pulling out her phone, and I couldn't think of a single reasonable objection that wouldn't raise suspicion.

I listened to Harper's side of the conversation with my pulse hammering.

"Hey! So I'm going to my mom's for the weekend, and I had the best idea... Yeah, stay at my place! Dad will be there... I know, right? Like old times... Perfect! He'll be so happy to have the company."

She hung up and beamed at me. "All set! Mia's coming over in like an hour. You guys can have a nice relaxing weekend. Maybe grill out, watch movies, whatever."

Whatever was definitely going to involve me inside Mia again, but Harper didn't need to know that.

"Great," I managed. "That's... great."

Harper's mom picked her up twenty minutes later, and suddenly the house was empty and quiet and I had maybe forty minutes before Mia arrived and I completely lost whatever remained of my self-control.

I should have used that time to prepare a speech. To figure out how to explain that what happened couldn't happen again. To be the responsible adult.

Instead, I paced my kitchen like a caged animal, my body already responding to just the thought of having her here, in my space, with no interruptions and no risk of Harper walking in.

When the doorbell rang, I took a deep breath and opened it.

Mia stood on my porch with an overnight bag, wearing cutoff shorts and a tank top that showed off her curves, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. She looked young and beautiful and dangerous, and when her eyes met mine, the heat in them made my mouth go dry.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi." I stepped aside to let her in, hyperaware of how close she was as she brushed past me.

She set her bag down and turned to face me, and suddenly the air between us was electric. We stared at each other for a long moment, all the things we needed to say hanging unspoken in the space between us.

"We should talk," I said finally.

"Okay." She moved to the living room and sat on the couch, and I followed, keeping careful distance between us.

"Mia, what happened at the party—" I stopped, running a hand through my hair. "It shouldn't have happened. You're nineteen. You're Harper's best friend. I'm more than twice your age. This is wrong on every possible level."

"I know all that," she said calmly. "So why are you telling me things I already know instead of what you actually want to say?"

"What do you think I want to say?"

"That you want me as badly as I want you." She leaned forward, her eyes locked on mine. "That you've been thinking about me constantly since that desk. That you can't stop. That having me here, alone, is driving you crazy because you know exactly what we're going to do."

Fuck. She saw right through me.

"You're not making this easy," I muttered.

"I'm not trying to make it easy." She stood and crossed to where I sat, standing between my legs just like she had in the pool. "I'm trying to make it honest. So be honest with me, James. Do you want me?"