Page 58 of The Daddy’s Girl

And distance hurts.

“Matis,” I call, but he keeps his back to me. “What’s wrong?”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters to himself.

“Why not? It was great,” I reply with a forced laugh to try and lighten the mood. It doesn’t work.

“It was great, but…” He rubs a hand over his jaw. “That’s the problem.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“I think I should take you home now,” he says with defeat.

“Matis, please.” I take a step toward him, panic starting to buzz under my skin.

Did we just fly too close to the sun and burn out before we ever had a chance? A moment ago, I was thanking the cosmos for the greatest kiss of my lifetime, and now I’m sort of wishing it never happened at all because of the way he won’t look me in the eyes.

Instead of giving me the attention and comfort I’m craving, he starts walking up the stairs toward the street. “It’s late, Trouble.”

Never has Matis turned his back on me. Not once. It hurts more than I can describe. Tears swarm my eyes as needles prick my throat.

I don’t run or fight or give him hell. I quickly jog up to his side and try to pretend that everything is as it should be. Putting my hand in his, I cling to his side, hoping to remind him that I am still me and he is still him. We are still us.

I’d rather have that than nothing at all.

Rule #16: It’s not creepy at all to keep her sweater, especially if she was the one who took your scarf first.

Matis

Iwill have the softness of her ass embedded in my memory forever. The sound of her breathy moans. The taste of her lips.

I’m a fool for letting myself indulge because it will haunt me for the rest of my days. And now she’s sitting beside me in a taxi for the last bit of our journey back to her place. The clock on the dash shows that it’s almost four. We have spent the last four hours together, walking around the streets of Paris, and the reason is not lost on me.

Amelia only wanted to extend her wasted evening, and me? I am a selfish man, and I simply wanted to be near her for as long as I could. Then, because I truly have no self-control, I took her in my arms, and I did things I was never supposed to do.

I’m a monster.

Amelia’s head rests against my arm, and I can tell by the weight of her lean that she’s asleep. The ride is very short, only ten minutes, but it’s enough to send her into her dreams.

What will she think when she wakes up in the morning? Will she be mortified that I touched her the way I did? Will she tell her father what a terrible creep I am? Will she avoid me forever now? I wouldn’t blame her for any of it. She only asked for a kiss, and I took it too far. I should have known better.

When we reach her house, I maneuver her onto my lap and awkwardly climb out of the car without waking her. She stirs for only a second, just to look into my eyes, but then she nuzzles into my chest and falls back to sleep.

Because she trusts me.

And I took advantage of her.

With a relenting sigh, I carry her into the house, using the key the family gave me years ago.

Again, because they trust me.

The house is dark and quiet as I carefully tiptoe inside with Amelia sleeping in my arms. I take each stair as slowly and lightly as I can until I reach her wing of the house. She has her own sitting room and bathroom and large bedroom, which overlooks the alleyway behind the house.

I have never been inside Amelia’s room, at least not that I can ever remember, but the moment I walk inside, I breathe in the familiar scent of her. Lilac and vanilla. With only the moon to illuminate the space, I amble through the room toward her bed.

As I deposit her on the mattress, she wakes up and reaches for me. “Stay with me.”

Merde. What would her father think of me then? If he woke up to find his fifty-three-year-old friend in bed with his twenty-five-year-old daughter, he’d never trust me again. I don’t want to put my best friend in the grave, so I brush her hair from her forehead and kiss her delicately on the temple.