บททั้งหมดของ Big Daddy Wants Me: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

I'm standing outside the auditorium and I don't see Cain. Did he leave? My heart sinks into my stomach at the possibility. I came on too strong backstage, didn't I? God, he must think I'm a sex-starved lunatic. I practically begged him to climb on top of me in front of everyone. What is wrong with me? It's just that the sight of him makes everything south of my belly button feel...wobbly and ticklish. I get wet and flushed and my skin turns so sensitive, I want to scream. Once, I snuck a romance novel out of my mother's nightstand just to read the sex scenes and I found it ridiculous. No way could a person lose control of their body in such a way. Oh, I was so wrong. When I see his hearty shoulders and that chest hair curling around the top of his shirt, my thighs spread themselves. He always looks so mad—so irritable—but his words are like blankets straight from the dryer. As soon as he stomped backstage, looking like an avenging lumberjack, my blood sighed with safety. Here he is.

The angry sea is an adversary of mine. There's an unspoken agreement between us. When it's howling and tossing my boat around on twenty-foot swells, it's trying to kill me. It's understood. I'm gambling on fate when I come into its house. I'm rolling the dice with my life, wagering that I can steal enough of the sea's treasure before it swallows me whole. I've done it successfully for years, despite watching men on my crew lose their footing and sink below the icy surface, never to be seen again. Yeah, I've battled angry seas successfully until tonight. This is a new kind of storm—the one inside me for Ursula. And I lost. Hell, I couldn't even put up a decent fight against this...this obsession. It swells and grows more turbulent by the minute. I'm obsessed with her soft voice, her big doe eyes, her virginity. Taking it. Protecting it from myself. Killing over it. I should be put in jail for what I did tonight. Fucking my sweet little niece up the ass over the hood of her car. The ca

Of course, I slip climbing onto the bus. My already injured knee slams into the step and I swallow a scream, scrambling back to my feet as fast as I can so I don't block the line of embarking passengers behind me. An elderly woman in the front row gives me a sympathetic look as I move past her, limping and clutching my backpack to my chest. I am doing this. I am doing this. I can't believe I'm doing this. Cain couldn't have made it clearer last night that he's backing off. It was my ridiculous bedroom that ruined everything. I still can't help but be surprised by his willpower, though. I saw the hungry shape of him through his pants. I like it too much, girl. Thank God he let those words slip, because they're giving me enough courage to surprise him on his hunting trip. When I'm in front of him, he can't help but touch me. If I just keep getting in his way, he'll stop worrying about the wrongs and rights. And a change of scenery can only help my cause, can't it? Without any remind

I think of Ursula glowing on stage. I see her poor scraped-up knees and I hesitate. Lord, she's the sweetest thing on this planet. I'm not good enough for this gift. I'm not worthy. My brother knows it. My father knew it. Ursula will know someday soon. I'm a man who battles the sea and comes home with torn-up hands and dirty jokes. Keeping her innocent is the one thing I can give her. Not taking this one thing might keep my guilt and self-disgust from sucking me under. "Uncle Cain..." Ursula whispers, going up on her toes and wrapping her arms around my neck. "I hurt." My body moves on instinct, molding her between me and the island. "Poor girl. Your legs?" I breathe in the scent of her hair. "I'll make it all better." "Not my legs," she says, playing with the ends of my hair. "Down there, I hurt. It got worse and worse the longer I waited for you." A groan forces its way out of my chest. "We talking about that little cunt of yours, Ursula?" My callused palms scrape down the bare s

Dancers make the best eavesdroppers, because we're light on our feet. The three men in the living room don't even hear me coming down the hallway, especially over the noisy television. They're watching some survivalist reality show and nursing beers, frankly looking kind of uncomfortable with each other. Cain is lounged back in a leather easy chair, his two friends spaced out on the nearby couch. My attention travels back to Cain and I have to cover my mouth so they won't hear my dreamy sigh. Holy moly. He gets more irresistible every time I see him. In the old white T-shirt he's wearing, I can finally see his tattoos. They rake down his arm in spikes and brushes of bluish green. The material of the shirt is thinner than his usual flannel, so I can see patterns of his chest hair underneath, more tattoos sneaking out over the neckline. He doesn't have a flat stomach or six-pack abs. Not like the girls in my dance school never stop talking about. No, he's got a big barrel chest that dr