Forbidden Daddy (Daddy Knows Best Book 3)

by Kelly Myers

  I turn my attention back to my plate and once again wish for the day to be over so I can be with Nate again.

  I also wish I could ask Becca if it’s normal to be this obsessed with the guy who takes your virginity. There are a lot of things I wish I could ask her. I want to share a bottle of wine and have a girls’ night in which we discuss sex and role play and how to define a relationship for hours and hours.

  But it’s not to be.

  It’s too soon to tell her about Nate. I don’t know how she will react, and part of me suspects that she will judge me. Plus, I know Nate and I aren’t going to last long. This is going to be over before it really starts. It’s a fling. A brief affair that, if I’m being honest, is made sexier by the fact that it’s secret and scandalous.

  I know Becca and Tommy both have classes right after lunch, so neither one of them can stick to me afterwards and pepper me with questions. As soon as it is reasonable to leave, I scoop up my half-empty plate and announce that I’m off to the library.

  Once I’m there, I try to study, but instead I alternate between daydreaming about Nate and staring at the clock, willing the afternoon to pass. The sooner I get to my 3pm class, the sooner it will be over so I can go see Nate again.

  It occurs to me that I’m assuming he will want to see me again tonight. I brush off even the glimmer of doubt. He has made it clear that he likes my company in the evening, and I know him well enough to know he will communicate if anything changes.

  At long last, it’s time for my class, and I dash over, my head filled not with thoughts about the seminar discussion, but rather fantasies about what Nate will teach me tonight.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nate

  I’m waiting for Cynthia, and I’m not even pretending to do otherwise. She mentioned she had a seminar at 3, so I know I shouldn’t expect her until after 4. So as soon as the clock reads 4:01, I’m out of my office and lingering in the living room since it has the best view of the driveway.

  I no longer think of this as pathetic. It was pathetic when I thought there was no chance I would ever get to hold her, but now that I’ve experienced her, I’m no longer ashamed by my desire for a younger woman. If the sex is this good, I’ll be as obsessive as I like.

  I have a plan for tonight. I want her to be comfortable coming to my place, so I’ve decided to get her over here, show her where she can hang out or study, and then make her a nice dinner.

  I’m a good cook; it’s a skill I’ve picked up over the years of bachelorhood. I used to be helpless in the kitchen, but it was either learn to cook or get fat dining out non-stop. I found that I actually enjoy it. I like messing around with recipes to discover perfect dishes.

  Tonight, I want to make a nice home cooked meal for Cynthia. Nothing fancy, just chicken pan-seared in a creamy sauce with asparagus and roasted potatoes on the side. A simple but good quality dinner.

  Then I have many, many other plans for her.

  I sit in a chair by the window and I flip through the pages of a book. I don’t try very hard to read it. My ear is attuned to the sound of her bike.

  At last, at half past four, I hear the rubber wheels slowly rolling over the gravel. I walk over to the window. She’s wearing a pair of black jeans and ballet flats with a flowing green blouse and a jean jacket. I like how she dresses a bit nicer whenever she goes to classes. It shows how serious she takes her education. I smile when I see Cynthia slowly pushing her bike along the driveway, her eyes fixed on my house. Clearly, she had the same idea.

  It sends a thrill of pure joy up and down my spine to know that she’s been looking forward to seeing me just as much as I’ve been anticipating it.

  I tap on the glass windowpane, and Cynthia’s eyes light up when she sees me. She gives me a wave. I grin and beckon her in. There’s a spring in her step as she pushes her bike onwards.

  When I reach my backdoor, she’s locking up her bike against the post. Then she turns towards me and practically runs across the drive. I lead her into my house.

  I don’t even wait for her to remove her jacket before I pounce on her, yanking her into my arms and showering kisses across her face.

  Cynthia lets out a little shriek of laughter as I maneuver her towards the couch. We collapse together, and she crawls over me like an eager puppy, until she’s straddling my lap. I kiss her deeply, inhaling the floral scent of her hair and noting how her cheeks are rosy and tinged with the chilly spring air.

  It’s a comfort to know it’s still cold out. The weather stays chilled all the way through April in Upstate New York, and I know that as long as there’s still a slight nip in the air, Cynthia and I still have time. Once the sun is out on a consistent basis, and once the days begin to warm, that’s when I’ll start to worry. Because warm weather means the approaching summer. Warm weather means Cynthia’s graduation and her imminent move to medical school. Once the weather is warm, the two of us will have to actually start thinking about the future.

  Cynthia runs her hands up and down my chest and starts to nuzzle my neck. I glide my hands over her back and settle them on her denim-clad hips.

  “How was your day?” I ask her.

  “Good.” Cynthia leans back and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “But too long.”

  “You missed me?”

  She cocks her head and gives me a sultry grin. “Obviously. I don’t get it, how can I be so addicted to you in such a short time.”

  Her words make me want to take her right there on the couch. I want her addicted to me. I want her to be unable to leave me, not even for a few hours.

  I grip her bottom and pull her even tighter against my body. She skims her delicate fingers across my beard before placing them on either side of my head and leaning down to kiss me.

  I let her explore my mouth with little flicks of her tongue. She grows bolder once she realizes I’m letting her take the lead, and she even dares to nibble at my bottom lip a bit.

  Cynthia lets out a small moan against my mouth and then she starts to grind her hips up and down. My cock grows hard at her movements.

  At last I can’t hold back from rolling over so she’s flipped on her back, and I’m hovering above her on the couch. I slide my hand under her shirt and start to massage her breast, wondering how her flesh could be even softer and lovelier than I remember.

  Cynthia opens her thighs and wraps her legs around my hips, pulling me closer against her. We lose ourselves in the kissing and groping for a while. I let myself enjoy it. Not everything has to go straight to sex right away. I want Cynthia to know the whole range of sensual touching.

  After several minutes, I pull away and sit up. Cynthia sits up as well, her hair sticking on end, and her chest gasping for breath.

  I push a curl out of her face. “That was nice.”

  She nods.

  She curls her legs under her, and it makes me indescribably happy to see her sitting so comfortably in my home.

  “Nate, I have a question,” she asks.

  I smile. If I’m not distracting her with kisses or touches, her mind is always whirring at the speed of light, and I adore it. She never just kicks back and blanks out. She’s always thinking.

  “Ask away,” I say.

  “Is it always like this?” she asks. “I mean, when you have sex with someone, is there always this...magentic pull between people? Like how we can’t seem to keep away? Or does it just feel that strong because you’re my first?”

  I was wondering when she would ask about this. I’ve known since the start that we have an incredibly high amount of raw sexual chemistry.

  “It’s not always like this,” I say. “Yes, lust is common, but in my experience, it’s not quite as strong as our connection.”

  “Why?” Cynthia asks.

  I shrug. “This may be hard for you, as a medical student, to wrap your head around, but there’s not always a cleancut biological reason.”

  “I’m not a total numbers-obsessed emotionless vacuum.” Cynthia laugh
s and swats my shoulder with her palm. “It’s just new to me, and it seems we have this pull that’s a bit...more intense than I expected.”

  “Yeawh, it is,” I say. “And it’s not common. Cynthia, I haven’t been this attracted to and distracted by a woman in years and years.

  Cynthia’s eyes widen at the compliment. “Really?”

  “Really.” I put my hand behind her neck and pull her towards me for one last kiss.

  Then I rise to my feet.

  “I’m going to start making dinner,” I say. “You’re free to study here or in another room. Or you can chat with me.”

  “You don’t need any help?” she asks.

  “No, bachelors are better at cooking than anyone knows,” I say. “Besides, I’m cooking for you, you’re not allowed to help.”

  “Well, I need to take care of a small assignment, but then I can join you?” she asks.

  “Great.”

  I leave her on the couch, pulling out her computer, and I head to the kitchen. I feel happier just knowing that she’s in the house, even if she’s out of sight. I didn’t realize how lonely my home could feel until I had someone like Cynthia warming it up with her presence.

  The chicken is stewing in its sauce when Cynthia enters the kitchen. She’s removed her jacket, and she gazes around in bemusement at the set table. I decided to go the whole hog and light some candles.

  I hand her a glass of chardonnay as well.

  But Cynthia doesn’t sit down and start chatting as I expect. Instead she clutches the glass as her eyes dart around the spacious kitchen and dining room.

  “This is nice,” she says.

  I start to feel a seed of discomfort. This dinner was maybe too much too soon. She’s confused, I can tell. And I know I’m throwing a lot at her. The other day I said we were just having fun, exploring our feelings and enjoying ourselves. And now I’ve set out candles. I can’t help it though. I’m too old to play games or act like I don’t care when I do. Despite our age difference, I sense that Cynthia and I are alike in that. She doesn’t want to play games either, but she also is still figuring out what she wants from me.

  I keep my voice calm and steady as I respond. “I don’t want to just have sex, Cynthia. I want other things with you as well.”

  “But we agreed.” Cynthia’s brow furrows and she shakes her head. “This wasn’t supposed to be serious, we were just going to live in the moment and see what happened.”

  “Are you upset?” I ask with a small grin. “If so, I’m happy to throw the chicken out.”

  “No, I’m not upset,” Cynthia says. “I’m just processing. And maybe freaking out a little.”

  “Talk to me.” I know the only way she’s going to figure this out is if she’s able to express herself, even if she’s not certain what she needs to express.”

  “It’s just that you and I are getting serious, it doesn’t make sense,” Cynthia says. “I leave for med school so soon, and we’re just at such different points in our life.”

  “I know I’m older,” I say.

  “It’s not even about your age,” Cynthia protests. “It’s about where you are in life. You’re settled. You have a career and a house, and I’m just starting out. I’m moving for med school. Who knows where I’ll end up for residency and beyond?”

  She sets the wine down on the counter and starts to pace back and forth. “I thougth this was just sex. The only way it makes sense for us to be together is if it’s just sex.”

  I can’t bear to watch her torture herself any longer. I move towards her and grip her shoulders in my hands.

  “Cynthia, listen, I don’t think I want this to be just sex,” I say. “I’m not saying we have to get serious right now, or you have to make any decisions. I just want you to know that there’s a chance I want it to be serious. And I want us to explore that.”

  I brush a kiss against her lips, and Cynthia instantly responds. Her head hasn’t caught up with her body. In her mind, she thinks we shouldn’t get serious, but clearly her body feels a different way.

  Her eyes soften as she looks up at me. “How are you always so calm? It’s like nothing fazes you.”

  “Years of practice.” I release her shoulders and head back to check on the chicken.

  Cynthia picks up her wine, and as I put together the plates, she sits down at the table. She’s more at ease, but I can tell she’s not ready to commit to anything.

  As I sit down, I meet her steady gaze.

  “Let’s just try this,” I say. “We’ll still enjoy our present, but we’ll try being a little serious as well.”

  Cynthia stares at me with raw hunger in her eyes.

  “Ok,” she says at last. “We’ll try.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cynthia

  I push my thick hair off my neck and then fan myself. I’m crossing campus to get my bike, and I’m breaking a sweat.

  It’s been a few weeks since Nate and I first had sex, and the weather is at last warming up. All of a sudden, all my classes are wrapping up, and I’m getting countless emails about the graduation ceremony in a few weeks, and even a few emails from med school about registering for classes and orientation.

  Every time I’m with Nate, I get lost in the moment. I get sucked into the way he sees the world. He says we don’t have to overthink our futures or make any big decisions right now. He says we should just see what happens.

  It’s easy to think like him when he’s kissing me senseless or telling a funny story or we’re cooking a meal together. As soon as we’re apart, I start to panic again.

  This isn’t going anywhere. Nate and I don’t have to worry about the future, because we don’t have a future.

  And yet he’s convinced me to get serious with him. We spend every night together. We’ve gone on dates to the movies and to restaurants. I’ve told him about my mom’s battle with cancer and my dad walking out. He’s told me about his bitter divorce. That’s not casual. That’s extremely serious.

  The worst part is, I like being serious with him. Our bond grows deeper every day, and it makes our sexual connection that much better.

  My phone buzzes, and I glance down. It’s a text from Becca asking me to meet her in the quad. She’s sunning herself.

  I veer left and head towards her. I was going to just bike back to be with Nate, but this whole week I’ve been feeling guilty about my friends. They still don’t know about Nate. I haven’t even hinted. They just think I’m being my usual, unfun, homebody self but not going to any of the senior semester parties.

  I blow out my cheeks and sigh. It feels so ridiculous to be this worried about a relationship that feels so good. Every second with Nate feels right. But I can’t just ignore my dream of becoming a doctor. I can’t just pretend I’m not going to medical school in a matter of months. I’m not that girl. I’ve never been that girl.

  I squint up at the blazing afternoon sun as I travass the green quad. Every other student had the same idea as Becca, and the lawn is spotted with sunbathing students, not even pretending to study.

  I spot Becca’s blonde head gleaming off to one side, and Tommy is by her side. I pick up my pace.

  I’m not really in the mood to lounge, but I know if I got to the library I’ll just stress about Nate. And if I go home, I’ll just throw myself at Nate.

  When I’m with him, that is the only time I can forget my worries.

  I have brought up my concerns to him. Each time, he tells me to not stress myself out. He says we’ll cross the bridge when we come to it.

  As far as I can tell, we are at the bridge. Graduation is in exactly two weeks. After that, my lease is up, and I’m set to go home and spend time with my mom for a bit before moving to New York City and starting medical school.

  I have snapped at Nate. That’s one great thing about him; it’s easy to be myself and voice my true feelings. After that first deceitful text message (which I was so deliciously punished for), I’ve been totally honest with him about what I’ve
been thinking. I lost my cool the other day and asked him how he envisioned the future. Was he thinking long distance? Or would we just fizzle out?

  I didn’t even bother asking him if he would ever move to the city to be with him. He is so established in his life. He’s set up his home to be precisely what he wants. He would never move. It hasn’t escaped my notice that he hasn’t exactly offered.

  And yet, he’s not a jerk. He tells me that he cares for me, and he does wonderful things to me in bed. He pays attention to me when I talk.

  Of course he won’t move though. It’s only been a month. I would never tell one of my girlfriends to uproot her entire life and move to a whole other city just for a guy. I can’t expect the same thing from Nate.

  Do I even want him to move? If he did that for me, that would put so much pressure on our relationship. I’ll be starting my studies, and medical school is no joke. I’ll have to dedicate so much of my time to classes and schoolwork.

  At last I reach Becca and Tommy and give them a faint wave.

  “You seem chipper,” Becca comments sarcastically. “Sit down, get some Vitamin D.”

  I plop down in the soft grass next to her. Tommy smiles and waves. We haven’t seen much of each other, and I can tell he’s almost surprised that I’m joining them.

  “I guess it’s really hitting that we’re actually graduating so soon,” I say.

  It’s not a lie. I’m just omitting the part about the older guy I’m starting to fall for.

  “Well, you need to stop sulking and start making memories!” Becca sits up and shields her eyes from the sun with her hand. “It’s Friday, there’s a party tonight, you’re coming.”

  I start to say no on instinct, but then I hesitate. Maybe a college party is exactly what I need. A place to relax a little, have a few drinks, just be young for a bit. Not that I’ve really enjoyed being “young” up to this point in my life, but I should at least give it one last try.