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I'm on her constantly, and it still isn't close enough. I want her incessantly, and it still isn't often enough. I've never felt this way before.
It's terrifying and exhilarating.
Is this what addiction feels like? The constant need? The endless fucking thirst? Is this what addicts experience?
"How's Mila?" Tahani asks.
Her question sends guilt whispering through me.
"She seems fine." It’s a damn lie. Mila is better than fine. The sadness that clung to her when I first got here is all but gone. She wears a smile all the time now, especially when she’s in my arms. But I can't tell my daughter that.
I can't tell her that I made her best friend scream my name. I can't tell her that I slipped my cock between Mila’s plump lips and fucked her throat. I can't tell her that I spent the night making her best friend ride my cock while I said filthy shit to her.
I'm lying to Tahani. I feel like I'm always fucking lying to her these days. And yet, I don't regret a single moment of what I'm doing with Mila.
I’m fully aware of how fucked up that is.
All I've wanted since the moment I found out that I had a kid was to be a good father. To do the right thing by her and make up for all the years her mother stole from us by keeping Tahani a secret.
For the last eight years, I've done exactly that. I know my daughter. And there is no fucking way she'd be okay with what's going on between me and Mila…but I can't stop.
Fuck. Why can't I stop when it comes to her?
The answer to that question has my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. It's enormous, more than either of us are ready for, I think. I shove it away, refusing to go there right now.
I push off from the bed, rising to my feet so I don't wake Mila. She mumbles incoherently in her sleep but doesn't stir. I stare at her for a long moment, just drinking in the sight of her in my bed.
She's a goddess awash in a sea of red. And she's mine. Her body is mine. Her smart mouth is mine. Her defiance and cries of pleasure are mine. She belongs to me. I'd fucking kill anyone who tried to tell me differently.
"Are you okay, Daddy?" Tahani asks.
"Yeah, kiddo. I'm good." I clear my throat, tearing my gaze away from Mila. Juggling the phone between my ear and shoulder, I yank on a pair of sweats and head out of the bedroom, away from temptation.
"Are you sure? You've been…weird the last couple of times we talked," Tahani says, far too fucking perceptive. She gets that shit from me. Until Mila, I was proud of how intuitive she is. Hell, I'm still proud, but her intuition is very fucking inconvenient at the moment. "Is it Mila?"
My heart stops beating for a second.
"She'll leave if you really want her to," Tahani continues, allowing me to breathe again.
"No." The word is too sharp, too hard. "No," I try again, jogging down the stairs. "I don't mind her being here, sweetheart. I've just got a lot on my mind."
I'm such a fucking liar. The only thing on my mind is Mila. Sooner or later, I’m going to have to find a way to tell my daughter that I’m fucking her best friend. I know this. She deserves the truth. Just...not yet. I can’t risk sending Mila running, and if Tahani flips, Mila will bolt. I’m not ready to let her go. I fucking can’t let her go.
I make my way into the kitchen and hit the button to start the coffee pot.
"Is it work?" Tahani presses.
My eyes narrow, my lips turning down into a frown the second the question is out of her mouth. "I'm not talking to you about my job, Tahani," I tell her firmly. There's very little I won't do for my daughter, but talking to her about my job? Not fucking happening. "You know the rules."
The coffee maker begins clicking before it finally starts spewing hot coffee into the pot.
"I hate your rules," she gripes. "I'm not thirteen anymore."
She sounds so much like Mila bitching about my rules. It catches me off guard. She's right, though. She isn't thirteen anymore. She's grown now, an adult. That doesn't change the fact that I don't want her anywhere near my job.
I told Mila about my partner blowing his cover and our case because I had to tell her. I needed her to know for reasons I still can't even explain to myself. But Tahani? She's my kid. It's different for a whole lot of fucking reasons.
"Work is fine," I tell her, lying again. Work is far from fine. Finn’s still not sure if my cover was blown or not, and we still don’t know where the guns are. But Tahani doesn't need to know any of that.
