Best Friend's Daddy (Forever Daddies Book 3)

by Victoria Snow

  Stevie’s breathing quieted but I continued to hold her, comforting her.

  “You were right—about everything. Business is back up at the restaurant and it’s steadily growing. People really do love the new menu. That reviewer didn’t make enough of a dent, just a slump, and I found out—the fucker was paid off by Theo and told to trash our food. It was all a lie.”

  “I would’ve thought that you’d change the menu, after what happened,” Stevie admitted, her voice a whisper.

  “No. Your menu was amazing. It was just what we needed, you were right, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t bring myself to change it once you left. I need you.” I took a deep breath. “The business isn’t the important thing.”

  Stevie pulled back so that she could look at my face. “But Michael, you built that from the ground up. It, it is, your baby, your pride and joy, your… it was the one thing you wouldn’t let Virginia have in the divorce, how…”

  “We can make a new restaurant,” I told her. “We can start over. It’s what people do. It’s what I wasn’t letting myself do. I was holding onto the past. I needed to move forward, and I want to, with you. You’re the important thing, Stevie. You. Not anything else. And I’m here to support you. Fuck the business. You’re what matters.”

  Stevie looked at me like I’d told her I’d give her the world. “I…” She shook her head, as if she couldn’t even speak, and then before I could even process it was about to happen, she was getting up onto her tiptoes and kissing me.

  For the first second, it was soft and sweet, but then—it felt like I was being shaken to my core, like a missing piece of me was slotting into place, and I pushed back against her mouth. And then it wasn’t sweet or soft at all. It was passionate, devouring, and I wanted to consume her and be consumed.

  She still hadn’t confirmed for me who the father was, and maybe she never would. Maybe all that I had was my own conviction. But that didn’t matter. We were together again, and that was important. I would raise that child, and so it would be mine, in every way that really mattered. And Stevie would be mine, just as I was hers.

  I couldn’t believe how badly I had missed her. It felt like I hadn’t even fully realized how much until now. Like now that I had her back, only then did my mind let me know how much pain I had truly been in. How much I had truly been missing out.

  We practically tore each other’s clothes off. I think I ripped her shirt a little, but I didn’t care. Stevie seemed a bit… self-conscious about the changes to her body. I could see her hands moving to cover her fuller breasts, her softening stomach. I gently moved her hands away.

  “God, you’re so sexy,” I breathed, and I meant it. She was absolutely gorgeous to me, and always would be.

  Stevie blushed, smiling bashfully, and let me peel the rest of her clothes off of her. I was starving for her, a feast just for me, and I couldn’t wait to taste her again.

  We stumbled back towards the bed, kissing the entire time, her hands roaming all over my body like she was trying to map me out. I shoved her playfully down onto her bed and she laughed, scooting back, her legs spreading so that I could crawl between them.

  “I’ve missed him,” she whispered, like it was a secret. “I keep touching myself thinking about you. I told myself I would stop, but I keep dreaming about you at night, dreaming about you inside of me…”

  That was like music to my ears. I kissed slowly up her thighs. “Same here, baby,” I assured her, stroking her.

  I wanted to make her feel good. I wanted her to feel like she was still beautiful—like nothing could ever change that. I wanted to make the last horrible couple of months go away.

  Stevie’s head fell back against the pillows as I slowly moved my mouth up her body to lick into her. She was panting, sounding already close, and I grinned against her slick, heated skin.

  “You know, I touched myself thinking about you, too,” I assured her. “In the shower, in bed… I want you on every damn surface of my house.”

  Stevie moaned a little as I said that—and then I set my mouth back on her and she gasped, clenching around me. I knew that everything I did with her was her first time, since she had been a virgin before me, but that didn’t meant that I was going to take it as an excuse to be lazy. I was going to make sure that it was the best damn thing, that it had her brains leaking out her ears.

  She tasted just like I remembered, and she responded so beautifully to me as I worked her up higher and higher with my tongue. When at last I slid my fingers into her sweet cunt she sobbed. Her fingers dug into my hair, tugging, and I was smirking against her mouth before long.

  I could have made her wait, but… it felt cruel to deny her when she needed it so badly, when she was so close to orgasm.

  So I wrapped my mouth around her clit and sucked hard, curling my tongue right up underneath it.

  Stevie came with a sharp, harsh cry of my name, and nothing had ever sounded sweeter to me in the world.

  26

  Stevie

  I had never imagined that sex could be so passionate, so… so torrid, just like out of those ridiculous Harlequin novels I had always derided when Brooke had tried to get me to read them.

  But this…this was like being ravished. It was being worshipped. Michael kissed all over my body like he would die if he didn’t, and I had absolutely no objections. I had missed him so fucking much and now he was here in front of me and it was like the world was color again, like I could feel things properly once more. Everything was so sharp, so real, it felt like up until now I had been living in some horrible nightmare.

  He went down on me like he was eating the best dessert ever, and I was helpless to do anything but moan and beg for him. He was so good at what he did, knowing exactly how to touch me, how to make me desperate, how to send me over that peak. I was soaking by the time he was finished with me, and it felt like my blood had been turned into hot, golden liquid. I was a being made of pure ecstasy, and all I could do was ride the wave of it.

  It was so hot, so very sexy—but more than how it made me feel physically, it made me feel… beautiful. Worshipped. Like he wanted nothing more than to touch me like this, and to make me feel gorgeous, valued, euphoric. Like nothing less than that would satisfy him.

  Michael crawled up my body as I gasped through the aftershocks of my orgasm, my legs shaking. He grinned at me like the cat that had eaten a dozen canaries.

  I grabbed him, spreading my legs further, and wrapped my hand around his cock. Michael groaned as I stroked him, felt the delicious weight of him in my palm.

  “Fuck me,” I whispered. “Fuck me properly, Michael, please.”

  “Your wish is my command,” he replied, his voice a purr as he bent down to kiss me.

  Feeling him slide into me again felt so damn good my eyes nearly rolled back into my head. Nothing could compare to this, nothing could substitute it. I never wanted to go without this, without him, ever again.

  I could feel Michael trying to go slowly, to savor it, or perhaps because he was worried about hurting me. I kissed along his jaw. “You can’t hurt me,” I promised. “Fuck me however you want. I’m yours.”

  Michael tugged on my hair in that rough, sharp way that I liked, sucking at my neck like he was determined to cover it with a necklace of bruises, a series of marks to let everyone know I was his. I loved it, thrilled at it.

  His strokes became harder, longer, deeper. It wasn’t frantic or harsh, but I felt like I was being claimed. Like he was permanently making himself a part of me, getting so deep into me that we could never be separated again.

  God, I hoped that was true. I never wanted to leave his side, not ever.

  I wrapped my arms around him and we kissed again, our tongues sliding together, our bodies rocking up into each other, all of us in harmony together. It was like we weren’t two people anymore but one being, something more, melding, as close as two people could possibly become. I wasn’t sure where he ended and I began, or vice versa, and I loved it that
way. I never wanted it to end.

  When at last we came, shuddering, it was together.

  As perfect as that was, though… there was still one more thing that had to be taken care of.

  We cleaned up, and lay in bed, my head on his chest and his arms around me, and it felt like nothing in the world mattered so much as this.

  But I knew that I couldn’t move forward until I had told him the truth. And I could only hope that he would be pleased. I thought that he would, after all that he had offered but…well, I was still nervous. But there was nothing else for it. We couldn’t continue under a lie.

  I had to tell him about the baby.

  I knew that I should’ve said it sooner. I should have told him the moment that I wanted to kiss him. No, before that, I should’ve told him the moment that he’d made it clear that he would take care of the baby no matter what. But I’d just been so swept up in the moment, in reuniting with him…

  Didn’t matter. I was going to tell him now.

  “It’s yours,” I whispered as Michael held me. I pressed the words into the hollow of his throat. “The baby is yours. I’ve never been with anyone else, it could only be yours.”

  To my surprise, Michael didn’t seem all that shocked. Instead he just smiled down at me.

  “I had a feeling that was the truth,” he whispered. There was no judgment in his face, only softness.

  I fell asleep staring at his smile.

  For the first time in months, I slept well. I slept feeling safe, and warm, and well taken care of. I didn’t wake up all night, tossing and turning. I felt properly tired, in the good way, and sated.

  When I woke up, it was alone, but also to the smell of food. Bacon, and eggs, and vegetables frying.

  I rolled over to see Michael in the kitchenette, making us breakfast. It looked like he was making omelets, and I grinned helplessly. He was just wearing his jeans from the night before and nothing else, wonderfully bare chested, and it was a hell of a sight to wake up to. I could see the broad, strong lines of his back, and all his firm muscles, and those strong arms that had held me so tenderly last night.

  I wanted to wake up to that every morning.

  I got up, sidling over to him, and wrapped my arms around him from behind. “Morning,” I said, kissing him on the back of the shoulder.

  Michael turned halfway around, looping his arm around me. “Good morning, beautiful.” He kissed my nose. “Sleep well?”

  “Mmm, yes, you?”

  “Best sleep in months.” He turned completely, letting go of the spatula for a moment, then turned and scooted me towards the bathroom. “Go take a shower, relax, the food’ll be ready by the time you get out.”

  I laughed, letting him manhandle me and getting into the shower. It felt good, warm water sliding down me, and I was tempted to call out to offer for him to join me, but I didn’t want to pull him away from his cooking.

  God, I couldn’t even believe how fucking lucky I was to have met a guy like Michael. He wasn’t even sure that the baby was his but he was willing to raise the child anyway. To do that to comfort and look after me, and the kid, to give us both the best chance. That must mean that he has feelings for me, right?

  I hoped so. I had never stopped loving him, not even for a second, and having him back in front of me again, in person, made it all come rushing back that much stronger. I didn’t exactly know how to tell him that, not yet. It felt like I was being painfully obvious, like he had to know from the way that I looked at him, the way I gravitated towards him like he was the planet and I was the moon.

  But I couldn’t quite tell him. Not when I still had that little bit of niggling doubt. He obviously cared about me and was willing to do the right thing by me but I wanted to hear him say it. To hear him reveal those three little words.

  Probably stupid of me. But I couldn’t deny it was what I wanted, needed, that final wall around my heart.

  But I really, really did hope so.

  I returned to the kitchen right as he was plating the food, serving me a delicious omelet with green peppers and onions, thick delicious strips of bacon on the side. I was glad that I’d gone shopping just the day before so he didn’t have to look in my fridge and see it empty. I felt a bit embarrassed already by this tiny studio apartment, I think I would have died of humiliation if he’d looked into the fridge of a chef and found nothing.

  Michael gestured for me to sit down, and then served me the plate, winking at me. I could feel myself blushing. I felt… oh, I know it was probably ridiculous to say or to feel but I felt like a princess, getting served breakfast and taken care of, looked after.

  My parents, of course, took care of me, I would never suggest that they didn’t. But I’d never dared to hope that a man would actually want to behave like this for me. Not to mention I was a very self-reliant person and I hated the idea of feeling helpless or like I had to be catered to, either because I was unable to take care of myself or because I was spoiled.

  But with Michael doing it, it was like a privilege. Like he was honored to do this for me.

  As we sat down and ate together, in comfortable, companionable silence, our knees brushing under the table… I wished that I could have this every morning.

  Every morning for the rest of my life.

  27

  Michael

  We ate in silence for a bit, and it wasn’t awkward or strange or the way that silence could get between two people. So many times I had seen it in the restaurant—couples running out of things to talk about, and then finding that they wanted to fill the silence with literally anything. They didn’t feel comfortable just sitting and being together. I’d always taken it as a sign that maybe they shouldn’t actually be together, if they couldn’t handle a little silence.

  But with Stevie and me, it just worked. It just… felt right. Like we should be doing this every morning.

  After a few bites, Stevie teased me, nudging my foot with hers. “Mmm, how does it feel to be the one doing the cooking for once?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, how does it feel to have the best omelet you’ve ever eaten?”

  “Whoa, there, cowboy. The best omelet I’ve ever eaten is mine.” She winked at me.

  “You sure about that? Pretty sure I heard you moan just a second ago when you took a bite.”

  She gasped. “You were clearly mistaken.”

  I grinned at her, just feeling relaxed, at home, even though this studio apartment wasn’t nearly nice enough for what Stevie deserved. “So… we need to talk…”

  Stevie had a moment of horror flashing in her eyes, and I hastened to add, “…about you coming back to San Francisco. Back with me.”

  Stevie relaxed. Not entirely, but she no longer looked terrified. “I want to come back, of course I do, but I’m not sure how things would look if I did. I practically fled, and if I came back and everyone knows I’m pregnant… and what about the restaurant? You had to get a new chef, right? I can’t just waltz back in there.”

  “I did hire someone,” I admitted, because I’d had to, I couldn’t run my kitchen otherwise. “But he’s new, wet behind the ears, and he’s not up to par with you. I picked him because he seemed like someone the others would get along with and I figured since he was newer to the business he would be okay with continuing to follow your menu. I’m sure that he’d actually appreciate learning from you, if you were in the kitchen with him.”

  Stevie laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased me, stealing a bit of bacon from my plate.

  I chuckled. “I’m not going to take no for an answer, though. You belong back home with your friends and your family, and at our restaurant.” Stevie blushed, and I paused. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugged, still blushing. “It’s just that, you called it ‘our’ restaurant.”

  “That’s because it is,” I promised her, squeezing her hand. “But if you want to go back, then that’s what we’re doing. After breakfast we’ll pack your things up and we can g
et you home today.”

  She didn’t have much to pack up, and she could stay with me, since I knew Andy had found another roommate for the time being since she’d moved.

  “It’s not that easy,” Stevie told me, shaking her head. “I have to give notice at my job, to my landlord… I could just… hand in my resignation with you because it’s you. Because I knew you before, for so many years, and I knew that I could get away with it then. But I have to give two weeks’ notice and all to my job and my landlord will have to know and I can’t just leave.”

  “You can do all that over the phone,” I pointed out. “And why would you worry what your boss here thinks? It’s not like if he’s bitter you’ll have to struggle to get another job. I’m hiring you. You’ve paid up for the month, right? Your landlord will find someone else, no problem.”

  Stevie laughed again, finishing up her omelet. “What’s got you so impatient, hmm?”

  I shrugged. “We’ve spent enough time apart. Even the drive back to the city feels like too long.”

  Stevie leaned in, putting her hand on my knee and giving me the sultriest smile I’d ever seen. I could so easily imagine wiping that smile off her face with a damn good kiss, and I could feel my cock starting to get stiff as my body heated up. God, I still wanted her so badly it was like I couldn’t even breathe.

  “Poor desperate you,” she teased me. Then she stood up. “However have you been managing?”

  As if she hadn’t been just as desperate for me last night, the little minx. Stevie grabbed the dishes and started to clean up, and I was tempted to just grab her and bend her over the table, fuck her right then and there, but I told myself to wait. I would get her all packed, get her home, and then we could have as much damn sex as we wanted.

  She actually still had boxes all around, just sitting in her closet from when she’d unpacked. Stevie just shrugged when I asked her about them, but I was guessing that she secretly had been hoping to have a reason to move back to San Francisco, even if she hadn’t wanted to admit it out loud, even to herself.