Baby for my Dad's Best Friend (Seaport Billionaires #2)

19. Kaylee

19

KAYLEE

W atching him come undone is enough to turn me on again.

Everything about this man is enticing.

He’s perfect—too perfect.

His dirty blonde hair is just long enough on top that I can fist it.

The strands are silky smooth, and he likes it when I pull his hair because every time I do, he thrusts into me deeper and harder.

His dark eyes are always shimmering with something, like he knows a secret he hasn’t let anyone else in on.

I love the way they become hooded when he’s turned on, how his pupils blow out, and his blue-colored rings blend with the center, making his eyes an abyss.

I love his high cheekbones, his sharp jaw, and the way it flexes in desire or anger. His curvy lips are soft yet firm, and his tongue is so talented. His skin is golden bronze, and even though his large hands are covered in rough calluses from years of hard work, the rest of him is soft like a velvet blanket that’s pulled taught over rock-hard corded muscles.

His biceps flex when he holds my hips. His abs harden when he thrusts into me. His body—and what he can do with it—is amazing. And when he finally falls over the edge of his release, watching him only makes me wish our time together would never end. His head is back slightly and he’s looking at me through long, thick lashes. He lets out a deep moan, and I feel his cock twitch inside of me, his hot cum drenching my inner walls.

His head falls forward, resting against my shoulder as his hips slow to a stop. We’re breathless and covered in a sheen of sweat. He wraps his arms around my waist, holding me while calming his erratic breathing. “Fuck,” he breathes, kissing my neck. He grabs my hair, kissing higher until he pulls back to look into my eyes. His mouth opens but before any words come out, we hear the front door slam.

“Shit,” he mutters, pulling out of me and pulling up his jeans. Taking my hand, he helps me to slide off the vanity. We rush to grab our clothes from the floor and pull them back on, stepping out of the bathroom just as Chase walks into the room, stopping suddenly when he sees us.

He frowns, his eyes moving between us. “Hey, what’s up?”

Austin shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. “I was just answering a few questions that Kaylee had about the master bath.”

He nods and grins. “Don’t worry. It won’t stay like this,” he laughs, stepping past us to go back to work. He stops and turns toward us again. “Although, maybe we should add a window or something. It’s hot as hell in here and reeks of sweat.”

My face burns bright red, but I turn and walk out of the room before he sees it. Austin chuckles. “Where would we put a window, Chase? Every wall in this room is an interior wall. I don’t think she wants a window between her master bathroom and the hallway.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I hear Chase reply as I make my way down the steps.

Austin exits the room and moves down the steps, finding me at the bottom. He reaches out and takes my hand. “Do you have plans tonight?”

I shake my head.

“Come by my place for dinner?” he asks, raising his brow.

I grin, surprise washing over me. “Really?”

“Neither of us can stay away, so we should probably sit down and talk about this like adults, yeah?”

I nod. “I’ll be there. What time?”

He leans in, brushing his mouth against mine for the softest, sweetest kiss. “Come by around seven.” Without another word, he turns and walks back into the living room, where he gets back to work. I can’t make the grin leave my face as I turn and go in the opposite direction, back into the kitchen.

I tell myself not to let my heart run away with my head. Just because he asked me to dinner doesn’t mean that he’s going to allow things to develop between us. He could be using this dinner to break things off. And even though that hurts, it doesn’t diminish my excitement. All I can focus on is the positive.

I pick up the tape I was using earlier and the plastic sheeting to finish covering the ceiling, walls, and floor to protect them for when I spray the cabinets with the first coat of paint. The job keeps my hands busy while allowing my mind to wander, and I immediately start thinking about this dinner and what I’m going to wear. The rest of the day drags on, and the only thing I can think about is being alone in his house where we won’t have to worry about being interrupted.

After the guys call it a day, I lock up and drive home to get cleaned up for dinner. I shower, shave, moisturize, and do my hair and makeup. I leave my hair down. Both times we’ve had sex, it’s been up because I’ve been working, but both times, he’s pulled it, so he might like it if I leave it down. I don’t do much with it other than dry it and leave it to hang in the middle of my back in soft, natural waves. I’ve never been much for makeup, but I add a touch of blush, some mascara, and a layer of lip gloss that makes my lips look plump and shiny.

I put on the only matching bra and panty set I have—the set I bought for my honeymoon that I never got a chance to wear. Both are made of white lace with light blue stitches. I dig through my closet until I find a black cotton dress with little blue flowers. It has babydoll sleeves and it buttons up the front. It has a deep U-shaped neckline and while the bodice is fitted, the skirt of the dress is short and loose. I put on some socks and slide my feet into a pair of boots that I leave unlaced. I grab my keys and get out of the house before anyone gets home.

I’m driving to his place when I get a text telling me that he left his garage door open so I can park in there. I smile as I turn into the driveway and creep forward until my car is inside the garage. I kill the engine, and the door lowers the moment I place my foot on the concrete. I gasp and look up, finding him standing in the doorway with his finger on the button.

I smile as I grab my purse and walk toward him, taking him in as I go. He’s showered. He looks comfortable but sexy, with his hair unfixed and stubble growing on his jaw. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt that stretches across his broad chest and shoulders. “Hi,” I say as I step up to him.

“Hi,” he replies, cupping my face and tugging me forward for a kiss.

This kiss is soft and slow but full of passion and need. When he breaks away, his eyes fall down my body. “You look amazing.”

My face warms with his compliment. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t realize you were dressing up or I would have put a little more effort into this,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me into the house.

“I’ll be sure to wear my pajamas next time,” I tease.

He chuckles. “I’d offer you some of mine, but I think I’d rather see you in this dress for the rest of the night.” We step into the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”

I lean against the bar. “Sure. Whatever you have is fine.”

He opens the fridge, pulls out a beer, hands it over, and takes a drink of his own.

I pick up the bottle and take a sip, looking around the place. The house is old, but parts of it have been updated. I can tell the hardwood floor that runs throughout the place has been refinished recently because the shine is beautiful even in the low light, but the kitchen hasn’t been touched in a while. The cabinets are still orange-tinged wood, a style from the nineties. There’s a white tile backsplash and red apples printed on the paper border that runs around the top of the room. There are even matching apple curtains.

He must notice me taking it all in because he says, “I didn’t design it.” When I look at him, he’s leaning against the counter with a smirk.

“Oh?”

He nods. “This is the house I grew up in. My mom made all the design choices.”

I nod. “Does she live here?” I look around, confused.

“God, no,” he says, chuckling. “I bought her and my stepdad a new place a while back and took this one instead of selling it.”

I nod. “How come?”

“How come what?” he asks, meeting my eyes.

“Why did you buy your mom a new place? Why didn’t you buy yourself a place? Or why didn’t you sell this place so you could buy yourself something else? Do you just love the house you grew up in or…”

He shakes his head at all my questions. “Ummm…” He turns his head to the side, thinking about his answer. “It’s complicated, I guess.” He looks at me again, but he must sense that he can trust me because he begins to explain. “My dad ran off and left my mom after I was born. Then, he made quite a bit of money. My mom struggled for years with trying to keep us afloat until she met and got with my stepdad, who is the man I consider to be my father. So…” he pauses, “my dad reached out to me many years later, but I refused to have anything to do with him. He was reaching out because he was dying and wanted to make amends. I refused to see him, so he knew I wanted nothing to do with him. After he passed, I found out that he left me money.” He scoffs, rolls his eyes, and shakes his head. “But using that money feels like a bribe. Like he thinks he can get away with being a shitty husband and father if he gives me some money, and I don’t want to let him off the hook that easily. So, I took that money and bought my mom a new house. She deserved it. She struggled because of him. After that,” he shrugs, “I moved into this place. I don’t have an attachment to this house, I just didn’t want to live in a place he paid for.”

I look at him with a smile as my chest fills with a warmth that only he can put there.