Page 75 of The Daddy’s Girl

“You know me well.”

“So what’s wrong?” he asks.

Swirling the dry red in my glass, I heave a sigh. If there’s anyone here to really confide in—without details of course—Geo would be the one. He’s paved much the same course that I have.

Glancing up at him, I ask, “Are we going to do this forever?”

His brows shoot upward. “By this…you mean drink alone at a sex club?”

With that, he turns around and waves down the young bartender. When Weston scurries over, Geo mutters his order in a cool, crisp command.

“Yes, sir,” West replies before rushing to grab his drink.

Something about it makes me laugh. “Yes, this exactly.”

Geo grins, less out of happiness and more out of mischief because he does seem to understand exactly what I’m saying. We’re both reaching an age where it should be harder to get the same response out of people that we did twenty years ago. But he does this, dominantly ordering his younger counterpart around to prove a point. He’s still got it.

And as long as we’ve still got it…there’s no reason to stop. Right?

“But for how much longer?” I ask. “I’m scared I’m going to wake up one day and be alone and eighty years old and no one will sit next to me at the bar or accompany me to a room or even want to be near me. Will all this be worth it?”

Lifting his cocktail to his lips, he considers my question. “We could make a pact. I’ll still suck your dick when your eighty if that’s what you want.”

My laugh is hearty, straight from my chest. “I know you would.”

“But let me ask you this,” he says as he turns his barstool toward me. “Are you afraid of being lonely at eighty…or are you already feeling lonely now?”

Something in his eyes tells me that he’s asked himself the same question. And I’m willing to bet he’s also leaning toward the latter.

I keep my voice low. “Aren’t you worried it’s too late for us?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His fierce eyes stay glued on mine, and it gnaws at me. Because I expected him to tell me no, it’s not too late. It’s never too late. But he seems to be as concerned as I’m feeling.

Finally, after a moment, he leans back and takes another drink. “Doesn’t hurt to try, I guess.”

“I guess.”

As I finish off the rest of my glass, I think about Amelia again. It can’t be her. I know it can’t be her, no matter how lonely I am or how much I’m ready to hang up my hat and settle down.

Settling down with her simply isn’t an option.

Regardless, I realize something slightly harrowing. It’s that I’m no longer thinking about Amelia’s lips or her warm cunt or her soft, sweet hips. I’m not thinking about how much I’d like to sink my cock inside her or fill her with my cum.

I’m thinking about how brilliant her smile was the night we ate macarons under the moon. Or the way she clutched me when the club overwhelmed her to the point of rage. Or how sweetly she dotes on me when no one else does.

It’s all very important to me because I realize that I am not just attracted to Amelia in a raw, sexual way. I am not fawning over a twentysomething-year-old because of her body.

I am falling in love with her.

In a very different way than I loved her before.

In a way that won’t be easy to walk away from.

Geo drags in a slow breath, and I wait for him to speak, already knowing what’s about to come out of his mouth.

“Let’s grab a room. Distract each other for the night.”

The corner of my lip curls upward. I love the invitation, and honestly, it’s pretty tempting. Any other night, I would quickly jump on the chance. Sex with Geo is easy. Just two friends indulging in the things that feel good.