Page 86 of The Daddy’s Girl

This is still innocent enough. We would have done this before, wouldn’t we?

I have to stick by what I said earlier. That I would respect his wishes and keep him as a friend and a godfather instead of pressuring him into something I know we both want. We can maintain these boundaries if we must. Although it’s difficult.

But I’m making a promise to myself to not force something that could inevitably break us. I have gone this long with Matis at arm’s length. Surely, I can maintain it.

During a quiet moment in the movie, I turn my head and stare at his profile illuminated in the glow from the TV screen. The pounding of my heartbeat’s a little bit louder. Matis’s face, his voice, his features…they are home to me.

He rotates his chin toward me, and our eyes meet. Neither of us move, letting the film play in the periphery as we gaze into each other’s eyes. Maybe we’re both thinking the same thing. That something has happened in the last couple of days. Maybe it was the night in Trocadero. Maybe it was the night he caught me watching.

But the landscape of our relationship has morphed somehow.

I want nothing more than to press my lips to his and kiss those soft lips. To feel the rough texture of his five-o’clock shadow on my face. To swim in the warm embrace of his arms.

But of course, he doesn’t do those things. Instead, he closes his eyes and presses his lips to my forehead. I wrap my arm around his chest and burrow myself into his arms.

The rest of the movie plays, but I barely give it my attention. I’m too focused on this quiet calm with him, the way it feels to be so locked up with him on this couch. To skirt this line, acknowledging its existence and how much we want to cross it while staying firmly on one side.

I turn on my mattress, first staring at the door and then staring at the window. The prospect of sleep tonight is as unrealistic as the dreams I’d be having if the man I love and can’t have wasn’t sleeping on the other side of the house.

After the movie ended, we peeled ourselves apart begrudgingly. I could feel the hesitancy radiating off his skin. Even he wanted to follow me to this bed.

And it’s not about sex, not really. I’d be happy if he was just lying here with me, letting me sleep in complete and utter peace and contentment. But he’s not. Instead, he’s in the guest room, which is two floors down and feels nearly as far as his apartment across town.

The thought, or should I say the temptation, to climb out of bed to eat up the distance between us is so powerful, I am nowhere near sleep. I could just go tell him I need his company. We could keep it strictly platonic.

More than once, I throw back the covers, ready to march down there to be with him.

Each time, I picture his face today on the street. The way he said, I can’t.

Then, sometime after midnight, I hear the floorboards on the stairs creak. My eyes pop open as I watch the door, waiting for him to walk in or knock.

But after too long, the creaking sound grows fainter, and I know he’s returned to his room.

Finally, something in me snaps. This is ridiculous. Why are we torturing ourselves? He clearly wants me. I obviously want him. We are both adults. No one else is around.

I’m not a fucking nun. I’m not taking a vow of celibacy. There’s no reason to deprive ourselves of what we so desperately crave.

In a huff, I throw back the covers and storm to my door. Throwing it open, I gasp.

Standing in the frame is Matis, and he looks just as tired of this fight as I am.

Rule #24: Let her take the lead.

Matis

“Why are you doing this to me?” I groan as I stare at her standing in the open doorway. I take a step toward her, feeling exhausted both from lack of sleep and this incessant moral fight I keep losing.

She steps backward silently as she stares up at me. Being back in her room, I’m reminded of what I did to her here last night. The way her warm, wet cunt strangled my fingers. I wince at the thought.

“I’m a good man,” I mutter as my fingers reach for her. “But I want to do very, very bad things to you.”

Amelia closes the distance, burying her face in my neck and wrapping her arms around my waist. “We could keep it a secret,” she whispers. “We could have what we want without anyone finding out.”

“It would have to be a secret, mon trésor.” My lips are in her hair, inhaling her scent and absorbing her nearness. My hands linger inches from her skin, afraid to touch her. Afraid that once I do, I won’t be able to stop.

But she touches me with abandon. She clings to my skin like sweat, letting her fingers trace the muscles of my bare back without restraint.

Then I feel a tender kiss against my throat. “We could get it out of our system,” she mumbles. “Maybe once we do, we’ll be free. We won’t want this anymore.”