Side Hustle (Dawson Family 3) - Page 30

I’m going to kiss her.

I bring my hand to her face, cupping her cheek. Her skin is so soft, and her long hair tangles around my fingers. I want to take a fistful of it, pulling it gently as I kiss her hard.

Scarlet’s tongue darts out, wetting her lips. I’m officially a goner now. No logic is left, and I move forward, bringing my other hand to her waist. My fingers rest on the curve of her hip and she tenses for a second before melting against me, bringing a hand up and resting it on my chest. She tips her head up, lips parting.

I inhale, heart beating faster and faster. I take one last second to look at her pretty face, to admire the sapphire blue of her eyes, the light freckles on her cheeks that she covered up with makeup the first time I saw her. I brush her hair back, moving it out of the way.

My heart is beating so fast I can hear it echoing in my ears, and I wonder if Scarlet can hear it. She brings her free hand up, placing it over my hand that’s cupping her cheeks. Her thumb rubs over my palm and she leans into my touch.

My cock is hard, pulsing, begging for me to get this show on the fucking road. To kiss her, bring her close, and feel the heat of her pussy hovering over me. She pushes herself forward, and the softest whimper leaves her lips.

God, this woman. If I don’t kiss her now, I’m going to implode. I tighten my grip on her waist and pull her close. Her breasts crush against my chest and she slides her hand up and over my shoulder.

And then I kiss her.

The moment our lips touch, desperation sparks between us, and she holds me close, pressing her body against mine. I run my hand down her waist and down to her ass, lifting her up and bringing her onto my lap. She straddles me, slowly easing herself over my cock, gasping slightly when she takes in the length, feeling it through my pajama pants. She stops kissing me for a brief moment, looking down in my lap, and the lust in her eyes paired with the shock does me in.

With an animalistic growl, I flip her over, moving on top of her. She curls her legs around my waist, rocking her hips so she rubs against my cock. Fuck, it feels so good even with clothes on I could come right now, dry humping her like a horny teenager. I haven’t been with a woman since Daisy left and the desperation is getting to me.

Scarlet grabs the hem of my shirt, but right as she goes to pull it off, the bottom stair creaks.

“Daddy?”

Jackson’s little voice comes from behind us, and I move off Scarlet so fast I fall off the couch, hitting my shoulder on the coffee table.

“Dammit,” I mutter, rubbing the spot where the corner of the wooden table hit. Scarlet scrambles up, smoothing out her shirt.

“Hey, buddy.” She rushes around the coffee table. “What are you doing down here?”

“The Tall Man is back.”

Scarlet glances over her shoulder at me, flicking her eyes to my cock. She knows I can’t exactly stand up right now.

Sitting on the bottom stair, she pulls Jackson onto her lap and brushes his hair back. “Is he still there?”

“No. He went into Daddy’s room and then Daddy wasn’t there. I thought the Tall Man got him.”

“We were watching a movie,” Scarlet says, wiping away a tear. I push myself up onto the couch. “No Tall Man down here. Let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

“Okay,” he says and pulls out of Scarlet’s arms to run to me. “Daddy, will you tuck me in?”

“Of course, buddy.” I wrap my arm around him and kiss the top of his head. Scarlet turns on a light and I pause the TV, knowing watching even a few seconds of this show will make him have nightmares. In the light, I look at Scarlet. She meets my eyes and then looks away.

What the fuck was I thinking?

She’s here for Jackson. Not me. We’re lucky Jackson had a nightmare and stopped us before we got in too deep. Because getting in deep was exactly what I wanted to do. This can’t happen again. It won’t happen again.* * *

Scarlet’s bedroom door is closed when I get up Sunday morning. Technically, Sundays are to be her day off. Unless some big crime happens in Eastwood and I have to go in, I’m always off on Sundays. It was discussed with her before she even started, but seeing her door shut like that makes a bad feeling form in the pit of my stomach.

Not that I’m in a rush to see her either. Because…what the fuck will I say? Hey, last night almost fucking you was fun? That I want to do it again but know we shouldn’t. That my will is paper-thin at best and avoiding each other is ideal, but that won’t work because you fucking live here. God, what the fuck did I do?

Tags: Emily Goodwin Dawson Family Erotic
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