My best friend's father 2

Lucien's POV

I should have looked away.

I should have told her to leave the moment I realized who she was.

Instead, my gaze betrayed me, tracing her as though she were something rare, something meant to be admired from a distance, never touched

The thin crimson silk she wore clung to her curves, outlining the swell of her breasts with unapologetic intimacy. The was short enough to expose the graceful elegance of her legs. And the way her gaze lingered on me wasn’t mere shock, it held something deeper, warmer, and far more dangerous.

Yvonne had shown me her picture once, laughing, carefree, on a trip I’d paid for. I’d told myself it meant nothing. Still, the image had lingered.

Seeing her now made that memory pale. Softer. Sharper. Real in ways no photo could capture.

“I’ve heard about you,” I said, stepping closer, catching the faint scent of jasmine in her hair.

Clean. Subtle. Disarming.

“Yvonne talks about you.”

“She does?” Her breath came shallow, measured, as if she were trying to steady herself.

“Yes.” I nodded, heat gathering low in my chest.

Don’t, I warned myself. She’s off-limits.

The music thundered faintly from downstairs, laughter, shouting, chaos, but up here, the silence between us pressed close, suffocating in its intensity.

I lifted my hand and my fingers brushed through her hair, slow, testing. Silk-soft. She didn’t pull away.

Her stillness was worse.

“I told Yvonne not to let anyone upstairs,” I murmured, my fingers trailing from her hair to her cheek. Her skin was warm beneath my touch. “Yet here you are.”

Her breath hitched when my hand settled briefly at her throat, not tight, not threatening. Just there.

“What do you think I should do with you?” I asked quietly, my mouth brushing the shell of her ear.

“Nothing,” she whispered.

I withdrew at once, turning away as control snapped back into place like a clenched fist.

I had plenty of women chasing me, hearts fluttering at my every word. So why was she, my daughter’s best friend, making me ache in ways no one else ever had?

She seized the chance to leave, but before she could take another step, my hand shot out, closing around her wrist. Not pulling. Just stopping her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

My free hand slid to her waist, firm but unhurried, drawing her back until there was no space left between us.

She gasped softly.

“Back to the party,” she said, forcing steadiness into her voice, though her eyes, dark, uncertain, fixed on mine, gave her away. She wanted this. I knew she did.

“I’m not finished with you, princess,” I murmured, letting my fingers brush the zipper at the back of her dress. I paused. Waiting. Giving her time.

She didn’t move.

Of course she didn’t.

“Mr. Lucien,” she whispered, my name falling from her lips like a warning. “What are you doing?”

“Shh.”

I lifted a finger to her mouth, my thumb grazing her lower lip. The contact sent a sharp rush through me, too much, too fast. Her lips parted slightly beneath my touch, breath warm, unsteady.

I tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze.

Her lipstick was smudged now, her mouth flushed, tempting in a way that tested every ounce of restraint I had left.

Slowly, deliberately, I leaned closer.

Not touching.

Waiting.

She didn’t move. Didn’t flee. Her eyes flicked to my mouth, her breathing shallow, hopeful, like she was bracing herself for something she desperately wanted.

And that was when I stopped.

I stepped back, dragging a hand through my hair, frustration burning hot beneath my skin.

“No,” I said roughly. “This can’t happen.”

I turned away. “You need to leave.”

Before I could take another step, her hands slipped around my neck, pulling me back, and her lips found mine.

The kiss was fierce. Reckless. Full of everything we hadn’t said.

I should have ended it then.

Instead, I answered her, holding her just long enough to feel how badly she wanted me, how badly I wanted her, before tearing myself away again.

She rested her forehead against mine, our breaths mingling, the silence loud between us.

“You should go,” I murmured. “If Yvonne sees you—”

“She won’t,” she said softly.

I hesitated, then scooped her up, her legs wrapping around my waist. I guided her toward the bed, placing her down as if she were fragile porcelain.

When I straightened, my gaze locked onto hers.

“You still want to leave?”

She shook her head, a quiet hum escaping her lips.

I parted her legs and slid in beside her. Then I slowly slipped my hands up her thigh until I reached her warmth. I could feel her underwear, already damp.

“You’re horny,” I whispered, rubbed the lips of her pu**y through the fabric.

A low moan slipped from her lips.

“Mm-hmmm,” she nodded, her lashes fluttering as her eyes drifted half-closed.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmured, though her lips parted softly, betraying her words as my fingers pushed her underwear aside.

“You’re right,” I murmured, letting my gaze wander until it lingered on the swell of her chest. The way she was lying made them press up enticingly.

Her hands folded as I teased her, fingers brushing over her folds. Fuck… she was already dripping. How long had she been craving this?

She shivered under my touch, breath hitching, and I felt heat coil through me at the thought of how much she wanted me, how ready she was.

“Aren’t you scared your best friend might catch us?” I asked, my voice low, brushing against her ear.

“I am,” she whispered, spreading herself wider, heat glimmering in her eyes. “But that only makes me want you more.”

What she said sent a heat coiling through me, tightening something deep in my chest. Or maybe it was just the way she said it.

“Say it again… and you won’t be able to run away,” I growled, sliding two fingers inside her, teasing her with slow, deliberate strokes.

“I want you… Mr. Lucian,” she whimpered, her back arching off the bed as my fingers moved with precision, drawing soft gasps from her lips.

That was all the permission I needed. Every nerve in me ignited, desperate to give her everything she wanted.