Risky Moments With My Dad's Bestfriend

I gulped as he walked slowly toward me. His eyes didn’t waver—locked on mine, burning with that same intense hunger I’d dreamed about so many times. He looked like a predator closing in, and God help me, I loved it.I rubbed my thighs together, trying to ease the heat building between them. I was sprawled out on his desk, helpless, waiting for his touch. My dress clung to my skin like it had melted onto me. Thin. Useless. I might as well have been naked.Desmond stopped in front of me, close enough for me to feel his body heat. He’d always been this steady, calming presence in my life, someone I looked up to. But not tonight. Not like this. My heart pounded as he looked down at my half-dressed form, his eyes dark and unreadable, full of things I shouldn’t want from him.He raised his hand slowly, brushing a few strands of hair from my face. I trembled under the gentleness of it.“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His voice was low, quiet, made just for me. His words slid down m

Brielle’s POVBy the time my last lecture ended, I was drained—but not from the class.I should’ve been thinking about the project due next week or debugging the AI model we’d been working on in lab. I was a computer science major, not some hopeless girl dreaming about a man she couldn’t have.But none of that mattered.Because Desmond Blackwood was still in my head.My dad’s best friend. The man I’d grown up around. The one I wasn’t supposed to think about like this.But I had. And I did. Over and over again.I closed my laptop slowly, pretending I was focused on anything else.Tonight was my birthday dinner, and I already knew exactly what I was going to wear. Something that would make Desmond look twice. Maybe, if the universe liked me just a little bit, I’d even get a kiss. Or more.“Hey Brielle! Got a reminder from Snapchat. Happy Birthday, girl,” Agnes said, pulling me into a warm hug.“Thank you,” I smiled.Agnes was part of my coding team. Smart, intense, the kind of girl who

Brielle’s POVSleep never came.Not even a blink.Not after the way he said it.“I’ll protect you. Even with my life if I have to.”Desmond’s voice had sunk deep into my bones, stubborn and warm. I’d played it over and over again in my head, like a melody I couldn’t shake off. I wasn’t even sure which unsettled me more—the threat, or the fact that I wanted to be alone with him in the first place.What kind of person feels turned on after a shooting?Me, apparently.I sat on the edge of my bed, already dressed in jeans and a hoodie, trying not to think about how I’d be sharing a house with Desmond for who knows how long.When I stepped out of my room, the hallway was dim. Quiet. But he was there.Leaning against the wall in a black long-sleeved shirt, sleeves pushed up, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a coffee cup.His eyes lifted the moment he saw me.“You ready?”I nodded, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah.”We didn’t say much after that. Paul handed over the SUV keys, and Desmond o

Brielle’s POVI leaned against the balcony railing, staring at the fading streaks of orange across the sky. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been here. A whole day in Desmond’s house- his world. The sun had vanished behind the endless forest of pines, and shadows crept across the estate like they belonged here.The air smelled warm, rich- garlic, grilled meat, spices. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since morning. The promise of food tugged me downstairs.The staircase groaned softly under my weight, the dim lights from the chandelier glowing like tired stars. At the bottom, I froze.The dining table was set for two, dark polished wood, black plates, wine glasses glimmering under the low light. My chest tightened at the sight of it. Almost romantic. Too intimate.But it wasn’t the table that made me pause.It was the voices.There weren’t supposed to be voices.I knew only Desmond and I were here. But what I heard, low, steady, belonging to another man.The sound wa

Brielle’s POVThe low hum of the air conditioner blended with the faint scent of lavender from my sheets. My eyelids had grown heavy without my permission, pulling me under into that strange half-world between sleep and waking.I hadn’t meant to nap. Not after the day I’d had, pretending I hadn’t overheard Desmond’s late-night argument with the stranger, pretending the near-breach of my system wasn’t still clawing at my nerves. But exhaustion didn’t ask for permission; it had simply wrapped itself around me until I gave in.The buzz of my phone yanked me back to reality.I jolted upright, heart hammering, dread sinking into my stomach before I even looked at the screen. For a second I was sure it would be another message from whoever had been watching me. Another faceless warning.But it wasn’t.Mom calling.Relief rushed through me, so sharp it almost hurt. I pressed accept quickly and sat straighter, as if she could somehow see me slouching through the line.“Brielle, sweetheart.” M