Dangerous Distractions

 

Lily Thompson

I was going to lose my mind.

My body hadn’t calmed down since yesterday. Not even close. That man,Ryan, was messing with my entire nervous system. My skin felt too tight. My throat dry. My core? Flooded like a damn faucet had burst open down there and wouldn’t stop.

And now here I was, at nine-freaking-thirty in the morning, legs curled up in bed with my phone in one hand, scrolling through what could only be described as the horniest section of the internet: the sex toy section.

The names alone were sending me into cardiac arrest. What in God’s name was a “ThrustMaster 3000”? And why did it have attachments that looked like they belonged in a sci-fi movie? Then there was the “Bunny Bender” complete with rotating beads, pulsing ears, and something labeled “triple intensity.” Triple intensity? I was struggling with just the single intensity of Ryan’s voice in my head.

There were Clitoral suction, curved shaft, rabbit ears, quiet mode…

That one got a hard stare.

I wasn’t just shopping. I was desperate.

If Ryan so much as walked past me in a tight shirt today, I might throw him on a desk.

This was ridiculous. I couldn’t keep going on like this every time Ryan so much as breathed near me, I was ready to climb him like a tree. If I didn’t do something soon, I’d either beg him to touch me which I absolutely refused to do or die of sexual frustration.

My finger hovered over the “Add to Cart” button.

“If I don’t do this, I’m going to hump a chair,” I muttered aloud. And just as I was about to click—

“Mommy!”

I nearly dropped my phone. “Shit!” I hissed, saving three links for later and slammed the phone face-down just as Isabella burst into the room, her curls bouncing and a huge smile on her face.

She ran straight to the bed and tugged at my hand. “Come on! Uncle Riri made breakfast!”

My face was on fire. Did she see anything? God, please no.

“Coming,” I mumbled, stuffing my phone under the pillow like it was laced with shame.

She was already halfway down the hall by the time I tied my robe and padded to the dining area. The scent of eggs and something buttery filled the space, warm and too domestic. And there he was dressed for work in that deep blue shirt that clung to his chest like a second skin, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, wristwatch glinting in the light.

I couldn’t look at him without replaying the way I’d moaned for him yesterday.

He glanced up when I walked in, lips twitching into a smile. “Morning.”

I nodded. “Hey.”

Keep it cool, Lily. Keep it normal.

Isabella was already seated, stuffing toast into her mouth when she waved something in the air. “Look what I made!” she said around a mouthful of jam.

Ryan reached over and took the paper from her. He looked at it, blinked, then handed it to me.

I froze.

It was another one of her drawings.

Three stick figures, standing under a rainbow. One labeled “Momy.” One labeled “Fadr.” One labeled “Mee.”

I stared at it for a beat too long.

Ryan scratched the back of his neck. “Well… that’s new.”

My heart pounded. I could feel him looking at me. But I couldn’t tear my eyes off the crayon-written word: FATHER.

“She said that’s me,” he said softly.

“I know,” I whispered.

There was silence. Isabella was humming to herself, happy and oblivious.

Ryan leaned closer, voice so low only I could hear. “I can explain it to her if you want. Tell her I’m not—”

“No,” I said quickly. “Don’t. Let her have this. Just for now.”

How could I lie to my own daughter?

Ironic. Imagine having to tell her that her Ryan who is actually her father isn’t.

I couldn’t do that to her.

He studied me for a second, then nodded.

“Can we take a family picture?” Isabella asked cheerfully. “Like a real family photo?”

I choked on my orange juice.

Ryan coughed.

“Maybe later, sweetie,” I said, plastering on a smile. “We’re kinda late for work and you’re late for school.”

The ride to school was quiet.

Too quiet.

And every inch of me was humming.

I sat with my legs pressed together, trying not to glance sideways at Ryan. His jaw flexed. His hand on the gearshift. His throat. His Adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallowed.

God, I wanted to lick it.

No. Nope. Stop it.

I turned my head… and stared.

He looked good.

Too good.

I imagined what it would feel like to straddle him in this car, to press my mouth against that sharp line of his jaw, to whisper his name into the shell of his ear while he groaned and gripped my hips.

Jesus.

“Lily.”

I snapped out of it.

Ryan was watching me with a knowing smirk. “Like what you see?”

“I wasn’t looking,” I lied.

“You were staring.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled. “You’re terrible at lying.”

And I was terrible at hiding just how drenched my panties were.

He parked outside Isabella’s school. She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, then did the same to Ryan.

“I love you both,” she said. “You should just get married already.”

We both blinked.

She skipped out of the car before either of us could respond.

Ryan looked at me.

I looked at the dashboard.

We didn’t speak.

Because if I did, I might just say something hormone controlled

Ryan Edwards

She thought I didn’t notice her staring.

But I did.

The second we got into the car, her whole body shifted. She sat stiffly, biting her lip, pretending to look out the window. And when I turned my head, I caught her, eyes locked on my neck, her pupils dilated like she was imagining what it would feel like to drag her tongue across my skin.

God help me, I wanted her to.

But I didn’t move.

My brain replayed the bathroom incident. I had been replaying it unconsciously since it happened

The moment I heard the creak of the bathroom door, I knew it was her.

I didn’t turn. I couldn’t. My back was already tense, muscles locked, soap sliding down my shoulders.

I heard her gasp. Then I felt it.

Her eyes.

They swept over me like heat itself. I didn’t need to look to know what she was seeing. I’d worked my body hard, punished it in the gym for years, maybe out of habit, maybe to fill the void she left. And now she was seeing all of it. Seeing me.

I turned slowly.

I wanted her to see. Every inch. Every line. Every part of me that had ached for her for six goddamn years.

And then I saw her.

Her mouth slightly open. Eyes locked on me like she was in a trance. Her robe hanging loose, one shoulder exposed, her skin flushed. Her breathing shallow, fast, unsteady.

I could tell from her naked hard nipples that she was turned on.

More than turned on.

And fuck, I was dying.

I had one rule when I came back into her life: Don’t touch. Don’t ruin what little space she gave me. But the second I saw the hunger in her eyes, that rule shattered.

I teased her. I pushed. I needed to know if the fire was still there.

It was.

She moaned when I bit her. She trembled when I touched her. She leaned into me, practically begging with her body even if her pride wouldn’t let her mouth say the words.

And God, when I pinned her wrists? When she didn’t fight me, didn’t flinch? I almost lost it.

I almost took her right there.

But I couldn’t.

Not like this.

Not when she still didn’t trust me. Not when she still didn’t know the truth.

So I did the only thing I could.

I walked away.

It was the hardest thing I’d done in years.

Because she wasn’t the only one aching

Because I knew what would happen if I let myself touch her again. If I let my hand slide up her thigh or my mouth dip into that sweet, soft skin right under her jaw, I wouldn’t stop.

And she’d hate me for it.

Not because she didn’t want it. She did. Hell, her entire body was screaming it. She just couldn’t admit it yet. Not while she still carried the weight of what I did. Not while she still remembered the night I left her with no answers, no closure, no explanation.

She still wanted me.

But she didn’t trust me.

And I couldn’t blame her.

I glanced at her again.

It would be so easy to lean over. To whisper in her ear. To remind her how good it used to be.

But I wouldn’t.

I couldn’t touch her until she asked. Until she wanted me without confusion, without shame.

She deserved that.

She deserved everything.

And I swore, no matter how long it took—I’d give her that.