Trapped with My Best Friend's Dad: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 258)

by Flora Ferrari

  I smirk, filling my voice with sarcasm. “Of course I mind. I didn’t think you’d dare to use my kitchen when you were staying here.”

  She rolls her eyes, giggling softly, musically, a sound that goes deep inside of me. “Okay, smartass. Well?”

  “Sure, sounds good. You can give Tanker a few pieces of turkey too. He normally has a snack around this time.”

  “Oh, great.” Her face lights up as she looks down at the little guy, his tail wagging, his mouth open in his most handsome smile. “That’s perfect. I was hoping I’d get to feed the little guy.”

  “You like animals?” I ask, sitting at the island.

  “I love dogs. We never had one because my mom is allergic, but this little one is just perfect…”

  She takes a strip of turkey and kneels down. Tanker sits and watches her patiently, opening his mouth when she offers him the meat. He gobbles it up and then stares at her, head tilted.

  “Uh oh, what have I started, huh?” Rayla giggles. She turns to me, her eyes bright, her lips tilted up in a smile, radiant in every sense of the word. “Is he going to quit now?”

  “Nope.” I chuckle. “Once you get started with this little lunatic, there’s no stopping.”

  “How many can I give him?”

  “Two or three more.”

  “Okay, awesome.”

  I tell myself to stop fantasizing as I watch her feed Tanker, tell myself to quiet the thoughts racing through my mind. But it’s like there’s a song blaring through me, a song that tells me her tender and loving nature will make her a perfect mother.

  She looks down at Tanker with such care, with such profound love, that I can’t help but imagine her looking at our children in the same way.

  And as the thoughts whirl around me, I feel that emptiness inside of me starting to fill, slowly at first, and then faster and faster as I consume her with my gaze. I want to deny it, to beat it down, but I can’t.

  I want her. I need her.

  The thought of any other man so much as touching her sends boiling rage through me, chords of jealous energy plucking and reverberating until I’m sure I’d make any bastard pay if he dared to look at her.

  My woman. Fucking mine.

  Forever.

  She stands, brushing her hands down her dress. “Do you want mayo with your sandwich, Roman?”

  I clear my throat, finding it suddenly difficult to speak. “Yes, yes, sure. That sounds good. When did you say Millie is getting here?”

  “Tomorrow evening,” she says. “Why?”

  Because I’m not sure how much longer I can resist you.

  “Just wondering.”

  Chapter Five

  Rayla

  We sit on the porch, looking over the lake together.

  Our plates lie on the table between us, our sandwiches finished, and now it’s like we’re waiting for the other person to speak. Tension moves through me as my gaze flits over the lake, the setting sun turning the water a burning orange color, my heart slamming heavily in my chest every time I sneak a look over at Roman.

  He sits with Tanker in his lap, casually moving his hand over the small dog’s fur. The little fella is curled into a tight ball, making soft purring noises.

  “Is he a cat?” I joke because it’s the only thing I can think to say.

  Roman’s lips twitch, but it’s not a smile. It’s not even a smirk. It’s more like the suggestion of a smirk. “He likes to think he is.”

  There’s another pause, one in which I can’t help but let my eyes roam over his arms. They bulge in his shirt, and his forearms twitch as he moves his hands over the dog. Every part of him is massive, heaving, brimming with iron strength.

  Whenever I imagined what Roman Robinson looked like, it was never as this… as this beast.

  I try to beat down the surging need flurrying around deep inside of me, making my sex ache and my belly tighten. But the more I fight it – reminding myself he’s Millie’s dad, she’d hate me if she knew I was lusting after him – the stronger the urges become.

  It’s like a deafening chorus inside of me, roaring through me until everything else drifts away and becomes unimportant. But I can’t allow that. I can’t let my best friend become freaking unimportant in my mind.

  She isn’t. No, no way.

  It’s just that everything seems unimportant when I think about what it would feel like to have Roman’s arms wrapped around me, holding me from behind, pressing his rock hard chest against my back.

  His big hands sliding down my chest and palming my breasts, squeezing them together, causing my nipples to harden and for shivering aching need to sizzle up and down my body.

  Biting my lip, I glance at him again. His gaze is firmly fixed on the lake, on the forest, as though he’s going out of his way to ignore me so he doesn’t have to address the fact I keep staring at him like a weirdo.

  Can he feel how badly I want him, or does he just think I’m a nervous dorky kid?

  Heck, that’s what I must seem like to this silver-haired giant, even if I’m twenty. He must think I’m so immature.

  I bet he’d never dream of looking at me like that.

  Which is good, I assure myself. It’s what I want.

  He turns and his lip twitches again, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “What are you thinking about, Rayla?”

  My heart hammers even harder when his eyes settle on me. He has this way of looking at me like I’m the only person in the world, like nothing else exists, like the lake and the forest and the world could fall away and he wouldn’t care.

  Or perhaps I’m projecting, wishing, dreaming a dream I know makes me rotten to my core.

  Millie, Millie, Millie, I sing in my mind, trying to make myself remember my loyalty.

  “I was just wondering…”

  I trail off, scrambling for something reasonable to say. It’s not as though I can tell him I was wondering what it would feel like to sink against him, to feel his powerful arms hugging me close. It’s not as though I can tell him how badly I want to be with him, even if I know it’s wrong.

  “Why you never revealed yourself to the public,” I finish, my voice far more frantic than it has any right to be. “Why did you choose to keep your identity a secret? And, heck, how did you do it?”

  “I never wanted fame,” he says, a musing tone in his voice. “I never saw the advantage of it. And remember, when I started writing, I never dreamed my books would become so popular. All I wanted to do was… empty myself, I guess, get rid of this gnawing feeling inside of me. And I did, many times, with many books. But then the writer’s block came and—And you didn’t ask about that, did you?”

  He smirks, wider this time, the blazing orange sunset shimmering across his eyes.

  “I’ll listen to anything you tell me,” I whisper, and immediately wish I could snatch the words back.

  He tilts his head, looking closely at me, and then returns his gaze to the lake. It’s like he finds it easier to gaze at nature than at me.

  Maybe my gaping is making him uncomfortable.

  “When I first started to get some success, I knew people would want to interview me, want to know who I was. So I decided to preempt it all and put certain defenses in place. I hired a private investigator and they reverse-engineered the system, making me difficult to find, both online and off. I couldn’t stand the idea of being known, of being… Fuck, I don’t know, of being distracted.”

  “Distracted?” I ask.

  He sits up, waving his hand, passion flaring in him. “From the work. The work’s all that matters. That’s what I thought, anyway, before I had Millie. And before…”

  Once again his eyes return to me, glimmering with something I find impossible to read. His massive body seems like it’s expanding, like any second he could erupt, tearing out of his skin like a werewolf.

  Before what? I want to cry. Before you met me? Is that what you were going to say?

  “What about you?” he asks.

  �
�What about me?”

  “What’s your passion? What are you going to do when—”

  “When I grow up?” I say, unable to stop the snappy tone from tinging my voice. “Is that what you were going to say? Because I’ll have you know I’m twenty, almost twenty-one, so I’m very much a grownup.”

  He chuckles. “No need to get feisty. I was going to say when you graduate, not when you grow up. I can see you’re a grownup just fine.”

  My cheeks burn and I feel a blush spreading over me, down my neck, and over my body. I feel it colonizing in different parts of me until every inch of my skin is burning and alive to the tiniest of sensations. The light breeze caressing my neck feels like a lover’s kiss, softly stroking up and up, creeping closer to my chin, my lips.

  I push the crazy thought away, focus on the moment, on his question.

  “I want to be an actor,” I tell him. “I know how ridiculous that sounds. Who doesn’t want to be an actor, right? The odds are stacked against me. But that’s my dream, my goal.”

  “Not a singer?” he asks. “You have a lovely voice.”

  I tell myself he’s just being nice. He doesn’t mean anything by that.

  “It’s one thing having a little section in a play,” I murmur. “But it’s completely different to, you know, be a singer. No, I’ll be an actor. And if I have to sing here and there, well, I’ll give it my best shot.”

  My words come out stumblingly, feeling as though I have to drag them from deep inside of me, haul them out and make them work. I’ve always found it difficult to talk about myself, about my dreams, my desires.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, still staring, pinning me in place.

  No, because I want him, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything. I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want to crush my body against his, how badly I want to wrap my arms around him and hug him close and never let go. But letting go would mean facing just how traitorous these thoughts are.

  “It’s just weird talking about myself, I guess. I try to do it as little as possible.”

  “You shouldn’t be so humble.” A wolf’s growl enters his voice. “There’s no need for it, not when you’re as talented as you are.”

  His compliment purrs over my body, making my skin hot, ready for his touch.

  “Anyway.” He stands, Tanker hopping down and waiting at his feet. “Thanks for the sandwich. I’m going to write… or try to write.”

  I want to ask him about his writer’s block, how it’s possible for somebody as talented and prolific as him to suddenly stop. But then he turns and strides into the house, ducking under the doorframe so he doesn’t bump his handsome silver-haired head. Tanker pads at his feet, and then the door closes behind him.

  Sighing, I sit back, interlocking my fingers in my lap.

  But what right do I have to sigh, to be disappointed that he’s left me out here alone?

  We mean nothing to each other. Millie would tear my eyes out if she knew what I was thinking, how badly I wanted to climb atop her father.

  At least I know he’d never want me, not in a million years.

  At least I know this is all going to stay firmly imprisoned in my mind.

  Chapter Six

  Roman

  I lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling, watching as the moonlight appears and disappears with the passing of the clouds. The night is quiet and cool, a chill in the air hinting that the weather might change. The forecast said there’s a chance a big storm might be heading our way, but it can’t compare to the storm raging through me, the thunder cracking deep inside of me every time I think about Rayla.

  Earlier, I had to leave before I sank even deeper into the conversation – before the conversation became something else, morphed and my desire made itself known.

  She looked so damn shy and alluring and beautiful and mine when she was talking about her desire to be an actress. She bit her lip and glanced down at the ground, only meeting my eye at short intervals, as though she could barely stand to be looked at when discussing her dreams.

  That caused an inferno to blaze up inside of me, a surging fire when I thought about the shyness flooding into her expression. She doesn’t need to be cloaked in so much nervousness when her voice is that of an angel, when I know she’s talented and that she’s going to make it.

  I chuckle and close my eyes, massaging the bridge of my eyebrows.

  How do I know a woman I just met is going to make it as an actor?

  My thoughts are stampeding down the most ridiculous avenues, into places that should make no sense. I don’t know this woman, this twenty year old curvy goddess, with her gorgeous juicy breasts and her full kissable lips. And yet I feel like I do know her, like I’ve been waiting for her my whole life.

  Groaning, I sit up and run a hand through my hair. My body is still sore from the workout from earlier, but the desire to put myself through another few sets surges up inside of me.

  I stand and pace up and down the bedroom, in front of the window. The moonlight is coating the lake and shimmering across it, but then the clouds drift across and block it from sight. There are few stars visible, most of them trapped behind the thick black shield of clouds.

  “What do you think, boy?” I murmur, glancing down as Tanker pads over to my feet and curls up. “You think we’re going to get a storm?”

  He yawns and rests his chin against my barefoot.

  I smirk and lean down, stroking him behind the ear.

  But even something as simple as stroking Tanker provokes a whole torrent of memories to rush through me, my mind filled with the way Rayla looked when she leaned down to feed him. I remember the way her breasts danced for me, the way her ass seemed to scream out for me to touch it, grab it, claim it.

  Sighing, I turn and walk quietly from the room. I wouldn’t normally have any need to be quiet during my nightly wanderings, but I know that Rayla is probably asleep right now.

  The cabin is large – there’s a library, four bedrooms, a large living room and kitchen, a separate dining area, gym, and sauna – but it’s so quiet out here in the countryside, every noise feels amplified. I walk down the hallway and into the kitchen, heading over to the fridge and opening it.

  The yellow light flooding against my bare torso, the coolness refreshing against my burning skin.

  Maybe I should’ve put on some clothes before I came out here, but old habits die hard, and I’ve never felt the need to wear more than my underwear when I’m in the cabin.

  And hell, it’s not like Rayla’s going to be awake at two in the morning, wandering the house…

  The world is a funny thing sometimes, playing its tricks because of course Rayla chooses this exact moment to walk into the kitchen.

  “Oh,” she murmurs.

  I turn away from the fridge, forgetting my nighttime snack, to find her standing there in a bathrobe that shows tempting slices of her thighs. She hugs it tighter around herself, but she can’t hide her bra peeking out from the top, tempting me to rush at her and grab her, palm her breasts, massage her smooth flesh.

  “I didn’t expect anyone to be out here,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

  I stalk over to her, finding it difficult to form words, not that I’d know what to say even if I could form words right now. Her body is so damn curvy, every inch of her made purposefully to drive me wild.

  “Were you getting a midnight snack too?” she whispers.

  I nod, pausing when I’m so close to her I can scent her need dancing in the air. I can scent her lust and her shivering desire, her aching need to be claimed.

  She smells like shampoo and flesh and, fuck, and just-Rayla.

  “What were you going to get?” she asks.

  “I’m not sure. Something meaty. Something I could sink my teeth into.”

  I wonder if she knows I’m talking about her fleshy thighs, her voluptuous tits… if she knows I’m talking about bending her over the kitchen island and sliding my hands over her perfect l
uscious ass, and then bringing my mouth close and nibbling softly, kissing until I get closer and closer to her hole.

  Fuck.

  I need to think of Millie, of the horror which would scour across her features if she ever knew how badly I’m lusting over her best friend.

  Millie has spoken about Rayla many, many times – about how close they’ve become, how quickly it’s happened, how much she values their friendship.

  But my seed roars too loudly inside of me, deafening me to everything except my desire to make Rayla mine.

  I lean down, bringing my face inches to hers, achingly aware that I’m nearly naked. My bare chest heaves and my muscles tighten, a song of lust roaring through my mind, telling me to claim her now, now, now.

  “Tell me something, Rayla,” I snarl.

  “Hmm?” Her eyes glimmer and she moves from foot to foot, as though she can barely contain all the energy moving through her. “What, Roman?”

  “Do you have a—”

  Suddenly there’s a loud thunderous crack from outside, and then Tanker is barking like crazy, the little dog making a noise louder even than the rainfall. The rain pounds against the roof of the cabin, loud in the quietness of the night, shattering the moment right down the middle.

  Rayla steps away from me, her mouth falling open, eyes blazing with shock. It’s like she’s just realized what we were about to do. Like she realized what a betrayal a kiss would be.

  Another crack thunders across the sky and the rainfall gets heavier, so loud now it’s like there are angry people on the roof, hammering their fists against it.

  “I guess the weatherman was right for once,” I say.

  Another crack, another, and then a streak of lightning moves across the sky and flashes into the kitchen, illuming Rayla’s wide and terrified eyes.

  Tanker whines and runs in small circles around her legs.

  “Are you scared of lightning?” I ask.

  She bites her lip, as though she doesn’t want to admit it, but a second later she nods. “Yeah, a bit. A little bit. I know it’s silly.”