I WANT MY FATHER'S BEST FRIEND 4Isabella waited until the house was completely dark.The grandfather clock in the foyer struck eleven before she slipped out of her room, barefoot, wearing only the thinnest silk robe she owned. It was black, barely tied, slipping off one shoulder the moment she moved. Beneath it, she wore nothing. Her skin was already flushed, her nipples tight from anticipation, the slick heat between her thighs impossible to ignore with every step.She padded down the hallway to his door.It was ajar, just enough to spill a low, amber glow from the bedside lamp.She pushed it open.Marcus stood at the foot of the bed, shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned but still on. The room smelled of him, leather, cedar, bourbon, and the faint metallic edge of arousal. His chest rose and fell steadily, but his eyes were black with hunger as they locked on her.“Lock it,” he said, his voice rough.She turned, clicked the deadbolt.When she faced him again, he crooked one finger.“Come
Last Updated : 2026-01-21 Read more