Good Girl For Daddy (4)

Elena’s POV~

The next morning, I moved like a criminal.

It was 6:45 AM. The house was dead silent, but I knew better. I needed to leave the house for school before daddy woke up. I had been trying so hard to avoid him.

I shoved my feet into my sneakers, grabbed my bag, and crept down the hall. My heart was hammering so loud against my ribs I was sure it was waking up the neighbors.

I made it to the front door, turned the lock with shaking fingers and slipped out into the grey morning air before he could catch me.

I made it two blocks before my phone buzzed in my pocket.

Mom: Hey sweetie, your step-dad is heading that way to pick you up today. He has a meeting near your campus. Be nice to him! Love you.

I stopped dead on the sidewalk.

Be nice to him.

I almost laughed. Mom, if you only knew. If you knew that "nice" wasn't a word in his vocabulary when he looked at me.

If you knew that your husband, my step-dad, had his hand down his pants yesterday watching me touch myself.

I shoved the phone back in my pocket. I spent the whole day at school on edge. Every time my phone buzzed, I jumped. But it was just Mom. Or spam.

Finally, 3:00 PM. The bell rang.

I walked out the side exit, keeping my head down, hugging my bag to my chest. I just wanted to get to the curb, get in the truck, and sit in silence until we got home.

Then I heard it.

"Elena! Yo, Elena, wait up!"

Jax.

Of course it was Jax. He was one of my ‘so many admirers.’ He was leaning against the brick wall by the bike racks, looking annoyingly perfect in his varsity jacket. He pushed off the wall and jogged over, blocking my path.

"I haven't seen you since… you know," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, giving me that shy-boy smile that used to make me melt. "Since the breakup. You doing okay?"

And here’s the thing. Usually, I’d be a mess. Usually, I’d be the sad girl in the oversized hoodie. But today? Today I felt… electric.

I still had the phantom sensation of Rick’s rough hand on my wrist. I could still smell the scotch and musk from yesterday. I was walking around with a secret that was eating me alive, and it made me feel dangerous. It made me feel hot.

So when Jax smiled at me? I didn’t look away.

I smiled back.

"I'm good, Jax," I said, and my voice sounded… breathy. Lower than usual. "I'm actually really good."

He leaned in closer. Too close. His hand landed on my waist. His thumb rubbed a slow circle against my hip bone, right over the skin where Rick had grabbed me yesterday.

"You look it," Jax whispered, his eyes dropping to my mouth. "You look… happy. Maybe we should grab coffee? Celebrate you being single?"

I should have said no. I should have pushed him away. But I didn't.

I looked over Jax’s shoulder, toward the parking lot entrance. I knew he wasn't there yet. But I seemed to have strangely felt him.

So I tilted my head, let my hair fall over my shoulder, and I gave Jax the biggest, brightest, most reckless smile I had.

"Maybe," I whispered.

That’s when the black SUV turned the corner.

I saw the tinted windows. The beast of a machine rolling slowly.

Jax didn't see it. He was too busy looking at my lips, his hand sliding lower on my waist.

But I saw it. And I kept smiling.

I kept smiling right at Jax while the passenger window of the SUV rolled down with a slow, electric whirrr.

And I saw a pair of dark, furious eyes staring right at me. I didn't stop smiling. God help me, I think I smiled wider.

The window rolled down with a low, electric hum that cut through the noise of the parking lot.

I froze.

Rick didn’t look at Jax. He didn’t look at me. He was staring straight ahead, one hand resting casually on the gear shift, the other gripping the steering wheel so hard the leather was groaning.

The silence inside that truck was deafening.

Jax, the idiot, didn’t even sense the death approaching. He was still leaning in, his thumb tracing circles on my hip bone. "So, are we going? I know this place that—"

"Elena."

Rick’s voice came from the open window. It wasn’t loud. It was low, raspy, and cold as ice.

Jax blinked. He finally turned around.

Rick was out of the truck. I swear to God, I didn’t even hear the door open. One second he was inside, the next he was just there, looming over us like a storm cloud.

He was wearing that black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked like he was about to buy the college, not pick up his step-daughter.

Jax straightened up, trying to look tough. "Uh, who’s this, El?"

Rick didn’t even glance at him. He looked at Jax like he was a stain on his shoe.

Then, he looked at me.

His eyes dropped to Jax’s hand. The hand that was still resting possessively on my waist.

Rick’s jaw tightened. A muscle feather in his cheek jumped.

"Remove your hand," Rick said. Quietly.

Jax laughed, nervous. "Relax, man, we were just talking. I’m Jax. I’m her—"

Rick moved.

It was so fast I gasped. He didn’t punch Jax. He didn’t shove him. He just stepped into Jax’s space, grabbed Jax’s wrist, the one on my waist and squeezed.

I heard Jax wheeze. His knees buckled.

"I said," Rick whispered, leaning down until his face was inches from Jax’s, "remove your hand. Before I remove it for you."

Jax yanked his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. He stumbled, looking terrified. "Jesus, dude, chill!"

Rick ignored him. He turned to me. The rage in his eyes vanished, replaced by something darker. Something hungry.

He reached out and smoothed my hair back from my face. His fingers were trembling. "Get in the car, Elena."

"But Jax and I were—"

"Get. In. The. Car."

I scrambled to the passenger side. I could feel Jax’s eyes on my back, but I didn’t care. I got in. The door slammed shut. The lock clicked.

Silence fell.

Rick got in the driver’s side. He didn’t start the engine immediately. He sat there, breathing hard, staring through the windshield.

Then he turned to me.

"You were smiling," he said. His voice was dangerous.

"I wasn't..."

"Don't lie to me. I saw it. You were smiling at him like he mattered."

He reached across the console. I flinched, thinking he was going to hit me.

Instead, his hand landed on my thigh. High up. Dangerously high. His thumb dug into the soft skin, right near my center.

"Did he make you laugh?" he asked, his voice dropping to a growl. "Did he make you feel good, Elena? Because you looked like you were having the time of your life."

"Rick, stop..." My breath hitched. His hand was so hot it burned through my jeans.

"Answer me."

"Yes," I whispered. The truth slipped out before I could stop it. "He made me laugh."

Rick’s eyes went black. Pure, pitch black.

"He made you laugh?" The words left his mouth, but they sounded like they hurt him to say.

He didn’t move. He just sat there in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. The air in the truck got heavy.

I shouldn't have said it. I know I shouldn't have. But seeing him this wrecked? It makes me feel powerful. It makes me want to push him harder.

"Yeah," I whispered, biting my lip, looking right at his mouth. "He did. Because he doesn't look at me like he wants to kill me, Rick. He looks at me like he wants to date me."

Rick’s head snapped toward me. His eyes were blown wide. The pupils were swallowing the iris. He looked like he was in physical pain.

"Don't," he warned. His voice was a low, ragged growl. "Elena, don't push me. Not right now."

"Or what?" I challenged, shifting in my seat. I let my knee brush against his thigh. Just a graze. "You gonna spank me? We both know you want to."

That was it. The thread snapped.

He didn't lunge. He just... shifted. He unbuckled his seatbelt, turned his body, and trapped me against the passenger door. He didn't touch me yet.

He just caged me in with his arms, his face inches from mine. We were both breathing hard. The heat coming off him was suffocating.

"You think this is a game?" he breathed, his nose brushing mine. "You think I don't know you're doing this on purpose? You're a brat. A spoiled, dirty brat."

"And you're a pervert," I shot back, my heart hammering so loud I was sure he could hear it. "Admit it. You liked that I smiled. It turned you on."

"It pissed me off," he corrected, his voice dropping to a whisper that vibrated in my bones. "It pissed me off because I wanted to be the one making you laugh. I wanted to be the one making you smile."

He stared at my mouth. I stared at his. The silence was deafening. We were both fighting the pull. It was right there, heavy and undeniable.

Then his gaze dropped. To my lap.

"You're wet," he accused softly. "For him?"

"No," I lied.

"Liar."

He moved his hand. Slowly. He didn't grab my throat this time. He rested his hand on my thigh.

We both froze. We both knew what was happening. We were crossing the line.

"Tell me to stop," he warned, his eyes locked on mine, begging me to save him from himself. "Elena, tell me to stop and I will. I swear to God I will."

I looked at him. I saw the war in his eyes. The restraint.

I didn't tell him to stop.

I spread my legs. Just an inch. An invitation.