Malta with My Best Friend's Dad: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 256)

by Flora Ferrari

  “Are you sure, madam?” the driver says, sticking his head out of the window. “It is hot. I can drive you.”

  “I want to walk up to the silent city,” she declares, and her voice sends warmth moving through me. “I might have my characters take a romantic walk up this very road.”

  My daughter, safe, alive, enthusiastic, and ready to take on the world.

  “There’s no point arguing with her,” another woman says, climbing from the car.

  I stare hard as I wonder who this is and why I wasn’t notified of another passenger.

  My thoughts spiral when I think about the deadly possibility they sent this woman in her place, as I wonder how this person convinced Lena to come with her…

  “Kelly, come on.”

  Lena marches over to the trunk of the car.

  “Madam, madam, let me.”

  I move behind the tree, fully out of view, as the word bounces around my head.

  Kelly?

  As I listen to the driver helping them with their suitcases, I struggle to match the name with the woman herself.

  When I last saw her, Kelly had a mouthful of braces and she looked half her age, like a little girl, giving no hint at the woman she’d become.

  But the woman I just laid my eyes on…

  Fuck, my cock is getting hard just thinking about her, stiff at the base, tension moving up and down my length like any second I could explode in feral fury.

  Cascading dark brown hair down to her shoulders, and a summer dress that highlights her perfect voluptuousness. Closing my eyes, I picture the way the light fabric of the dress dappled her round and juicy ass, and I can’t stop myself from mentally burying my hands in it, squeezing and palming.

  And then – fuck, fuck, I’m rock solid now – I’d smooth my hands down to her hips and pull her toward me, grinding my engorged manhood in between her ass cheeks, making her feel every inch before I lifted the hem of her dress and…

  Stop, stop, stop.

  I roar the word over and over in my mind.

  I’m here to see my daughter if only from afar, to make sure she’s safe and happy, not to lust after her best friend.

  I listen as Lena and Kelly being to make their way up the hill, pulling their suitcase behind them. Waiting for the car to drive away, I peer around the edge of the tree again, taking in the sight of my daughter, safe and full of life as I’d wished she would be.

  But I can’t stop my gaze from drifting over to her best friend, my eyes locked on the way Kelly’s ass shifts in that summer dress. They’re moving away from me now, but even with the distance, her ass looks delicious, the helm of my manhood grinding against my pants, prompting a surging need to whelm up inside of me.

  It isn’t just carnal and hungry though.

  Something strange is happening inside of me.

  I find myself picturing how Kelly would look sitting up in a hospital bed, her gorgeous chocolate-colored locks all sweaty around her shoulders, a serene smile on her face as she stared down at our child.

  Our child.

  What the hell am I thinking?

  That is an impossible future, and not just because she’s my daughter’s best friend.

  Living a life like that would mean reintroducing myself into society. That’s out of the question.

  But my mind doesn’t care about that as it races ahead, flooding with thoughts of Kelly, with speculation of how she’d sound when I plunge inside of her, squeezing down on her hips that were made for claiming as much as they were made for childbirth.

  And then I think about another man trying it on with her and my insides twist and a feral roar fights to escape me.

  Nobody, ever, gets to touch her.

  Nobody except for me.

  Because she’s mine.

  Chapter Three

  Kelly

  “I knew this would happen.”

  I smile over at Lena as she sits on the balcony, her feet resting on the opposite chair with her laptop balanced on her thighs. The sun has only recently risen, but it’s so hot here, I’m finding it difficult to sleep. Plus I’m eager to check out Valetta, the capital city.

  She grins over at me, silhouetted by the early-morning sunlight. “I’ll be done in…” She trails off, laughing. “Okay, I don’t know when I’ll be done. You know what I’m like. I can stop, though, if you want?”

  I aim a finger at her. “Don’t you dare stop. Because you’re right. Yeah, I do know what you’re like. If you stop now you won’t be able to focus on anything until you’ve written the scene. You’ll end up dream walking into the harbor.”

  She holds up her hands. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But I feel so bad. I don’t want to abandon you.”

  “Lena, we’ve talked about this about a million times. If you want to write, write. I’m a big girl. I’ll grab some breakfast and then head into the city. It’s so hot, I’ll probably come back at lunchtime. Maybe I’ll see if you’re ready then?”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “I’m one hundred percent certain. So no more guilt, kay?”

  Her face lights up, the way it has countless times since we were kids. “Kay.”

  That’s what we always say.

  Kay, instead of okay, stemming from when we were kids and I somehow had a problem pronouncing the word properly.

  I head back into my bedroom for a quick shower. I try not to look at my reflection as I walk across the room naked. Looking at myself in the mirror has always been hard, my eyes drawn to my curvy form only for nasty thoughts to populate my mind.

  After showering and changing into a fresh dress, I leave our apartment – clean and tidy but nothing fancy – and head through the silent city to the bus stop.

  I know that later all the shops and museums will open, but this early, with few people about, Medina really does earn its nickname.

  My footsteps echo quietly around me as I walk under the shadows of the two-story buildings, truly feeling like I’m in a Medieval city, my mind filling it with monks and nuns and knights and all manner of historical characters.

  I can’t help but let out a few notes, under my breath so as not to disturb the peace, as I wander through the large entranceway – like a castle’s gates, propped open – and head down the hill toward the bus stops at the bottom. If my tourist guide has told me the truth, I should be able to get the first bus to Valetta in about twenty minutes.

  My eyes widen as I take in the landscape around me, so flat I can see for miles and miles. Malta is a tiny island and on the horizon, the sea glistens, as though inviting me to disappear to some seaside hideaway and sing the day away.

  I sit down at the bus stop and let out a long breath, feeling the heat fill my chest, and trying not to let my mind wander to the dream I had last night.

  And yet I can’t stop it from returning, making a home in my mind as dreams of Kane always do. I can remember, lying there as he peeled back the covers, looming over me with his hulking bulging chest muscles, those ripped firm pectorals I’ve never been able to forget ever since I saw them.

  “Are you wet for me?” His voice was like a wolf’s growl in my mind. “I know you’ve been thinking about me. I know you’ve been dreaming about me. It’s time to make it a reality.”

  I whimpered and shook my head as he pressed his body against mine, both because I knew I was going to wake up at any second… and because I knew how wrong it was, what a betrayal it was to Lena. She was in the next freaking room and I still couldn’t stop myself from getting soaked for her dad.

  I close my eyes and let sunlight rest against my eyelids, glowing red, trying to push away thoughts of Kane. I always tell myself I won’t think about him again after every dream, and yet it never works.

  Opening my eyes, I look up and down the street.

  There’s nobody here apart from me – it’s not even six o’clock yet and I’m early for the bus – so I let out a few notes of a song, letting them hover in the air.

  I sing wor
dlessly, practicing hitting the right beats at the right moments, practicing my vocal range and control.

  It feels good to sing like this, carefree, imaging I’m standing in front of a crowd of people.

  It doesn’t even have to be a big crowd, but the truth is, the horrible stinking truth is, I’ve never even sung in front of anybody except for mom and dad and Lena. And, now that I think of it, Kane… because he was in the background once when I was singing for Lena.

  But of course, he took no notice of me.

  I cut off when I hear footsteps approaching behind me.

  Is it Lena, changing her mind about coming into the city?

  There’s a smile on my face as I turn, but it dies instantly, replaced by a flat line that’s supposed to telegraph neutrality, no judgment, nothing that could make this man angry.

  He looks like a criminal, a tall wide man in a leather jacket with tattoos covering his neck. His face is flat and mean-looking and his hair glistens, but not like Kane’s, not alluringly. His glistens like he’s drenched it in too much product, and it’s combed over a bald spot. He even has a tattoo under his eye, I note as he gets closer.

  He’s heading right for me.

  “Hello, girly,” he says, stopping a few feet short from me.

  Fear forces me to my feet, my hands hanging at my sides ready to defend myself if this man decides to do something.

  But what the heck is he going to do?

  I don’t know, but my instincts are screaming at me, telling me to get away from him as quickly as I possibly can. His eyes are narrowed and cold and there’s something about the way he’s smiling that makes me want to yell.

  His voice is heavily accented, by not Maltese – which sounds like a cross between Italian and Middle Eastern. No, he sounds Russian, something like that.

  “What’s wrong, Kelly?” He swaggers closer, his smile peeling across his face. “Not in the mood to talk, eh?”

  I stare for a moment as my too-slow brain tries to work out what’s wrong with what he just said, why there’s so much panic coursing through me like a hydrant of anxiety has busted inside of me.

  Then it hits me.

  Kelly.

  He knows my name.

  “Who are you?” I force the words out past my quivering compulsion to leave, to flee, my fight-or-flight defenses kicking in. “What do you want?”

  “I represent Sergey Abramov, the leader of the Bratva. Have you ever heard of the Bratva?”

  I shake my head and he chuckles.

  “Silly naive little girl, aren’t you? The Bratva is the most important and dangerous criminal organization in the world. Sergey is its leader in America, and he is very curious about you and Miss Lena taking a holiday here, alone. He is very curious about your arrogance… you are, shall we say, presumption that you will be safe.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He moves yet closer, but my feet won’t move, as though roots have sprung from the earth and coiled around my ankles. There’s a sick twisting feeling in me, my mind spiraling into a hundred scenarios where this man causes me harm.

  “Of course you don’t.” He reaches into his pocket, holding his hand there for a moment. “But don’t worry. Let’s go and get Lena and then I can explain it to you both.”

  “No.”

  That voice, the voice I dreamed about last night, the voice of the man who’s sent tingles shivering through my body more times than I could possibly count.

  It’s the voice of the man who went missing three years ago, the voice of a man with thick arms and steel-gray hair and a smirk that will never stop following me.

  The Russian looks over my shoulder, his eyes widening.

  I turn and let out a gasp.

  It’s Kane, fists clenched, arms bulging in his T-shirt.

  And he looks ready for war.

  Chapter Four

  Kane

  This was never part of the plan.

  I was supposed to watch from afar, get a look at my daughter and then leave Malta. The Bratva was never supposed to follow them here. But it seems Sergey has decided to go back on his word.

  It seems Sergey thinks Malta is fair game.

  He’s wrong, and my blood boils through me at the thought, hot and potent like my body is getting ready for battle. I feel my muscles bulging like I’m going to erupt at any second.

  But even now – when I should be focused on staring down this Bratva goon – I can’t stop myself from sneaking a look at Kelly. Even now my cock aches, the tip grinding against my jeans, my heart pounding heavily against my chest.

  Her hips scream at me to be grabbed, her chocolate-colored hair begging my fingers to trail through it, grabbing a bunch as I guide her lips to mine. I’d have to kiss her hard, possessively, to let her know she belongs to me and she always will.

  I almost roar with the need for it as primal urgency awakens inside of me.

  If I thought sleeping on it would make her easier to forget – make my inexplicable need to claim her easier to let go – I was dead wrong. It’s only made me want her more, need her more, and this motherfucker is trying to take that away.

  “Hello, Kane,” the Bratva man says, his hand shifting around in his pocket.

  “That’s not a good idea,” I tell him. “I think we both know that.”

  He tries to hide it, but fear flickers across his face, warping his features for a moment. He laughs and shakes his head, but it sounds unconvincing.

  “You’re not armed.”

  I nod. “That’s right. But we both know you haven’t got more than a blade in that pocket. There’s no damn way you got a gun past customs, and I know for a fact the Bratva doesn’t have arms dealers in Malta.”

  “It’s an island.” The man shrugs. “Smuggling is easy.”

  I stare at him hard, judging the distance between us. There are maybe five yards between me and him, only three between me and Kelly. I’d have to dart forward and put the bulk of my body between them and take the bullet, the blade, whatever I have to take to make sure my woman stays safe.

  Spreading my hands, making my chest wide and powerful-looking, I grin like a goddamn wolf. “Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”

  The man returns my stare for a moment, uncertainty making his lips twist.

  But finally, he has to accept he’s a coward without his Bratva backup.

  He lets his hand drop. “Things are going to get very interesting when Sergey arrives.”

  I try not to let my gaze drift to Kelly. Her eyes are wide and completely fixated on me, her kissable lips open in shock, making me think about those lips slipping down my lust-hard shaft as I slide deeper and make her eyes widen even more. Fuck, that dress, the way the fabric dapples against her thick perfect thighs.

  No, no.

  I return my gaze to the threat before I get carried away and maul her right here.

  “He’s coming himself?” I laugh gruffly. “And I guess he’s bringing Santa Claus and the tooth fairy with him too, eh?”

  “This is no joke, Kane. He gave us specific instructions to tell him if I spotted you.”

  “Who’s us?” I growl as the situation starts to spin in my mind.

  The man taps his nose. “Oh, I don’t know, comrade. Maybe there are a couple of us watching the airport just in case you try to make a quick getaway. Maybe we like having you trapped on an island. And who knows… Maybe some of us are even watching the ferries to Sicily and Gozo.”

  I step forward and the man takes several steps back, unable to stop himself from raising his hands and letting out a gasp. He’s almost as tall as I am, almost as muscular, but he didn’t serve several tours overseas, he didn’t wrestle in college and he didn’t master several MMA arts.

  He knows I could dismantle him in two seconds flat if it came to blows.

  “Time to leave,” I snarl. “Before I lose my patience. I mean it. Now.”

  “You think I’m scared of you?”

  “That would sound a lot more convincin
g if you weren’t whimpering, you pathetic fuck. Leave.”

  The man looks from me to Kelly and back again. When his eyes rest on my woman, even if it’s for only half a second, the desire surges through me to crack his skull against the concrete.

  Nobody gets to look at her, to ever fucking glance at her, except for me. I own her. I own her tits, her plump gorgeous ass, her beautiful wide innocent eyes, and her long luxurious brown hair.

  I own every part of her.

  Not this dog. Not anybody.

  Finally, he turns and stalks away, climbing onto a moped and speeding off down the quiet road, the sound of the engine seeming loud in the quiet of the early morning.

  I watch him go and then turn to find Kelly staring at me. She’s biting her lip, which is a mistake, which makes me want to force her to her knees and open her pretty mouth with the helm of my manhood.

  “Is this real?” she says with a tangled laugh. “Because this is the craziest thing that’s ever happened. I thought you were dead. Lena thinks you’re dead.”

  “It’s real.” I can’t stop myself from moving over to her, taking in the scent of suntan lotion and a tempting hint of just-Kelly beneath it. “But you can’t tell Lena.”

  Her mouth falls open. “The Bratva, Russian organized crime… and you’re alive.”

  “Yes.”

  I move even closer, unable to stop myself.

  My cock is so hard I feel like it’s going to burst out of my pants. There’s a beast inside of me, something I’ve never felt before, not in all the fighting and all the war and all the running. It’s a beast that tells me to bend Kelly over right here, pull her dress up and push her panties aside. And then push into her young tight hole until she’s completely creaming and shuddering.

  “You need to go back to the room and stay with Lena until I can arrange for backup to arrive. I can’t watch you both at the same time.”

  “But she needs to know—”

  “No, Kelly,” I snarl firmly, moving close, closer until I could reach out and touch her. And I do want to, badly. “You can’t tell her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’ll be too painful if I have to leave again.”