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Earth, please fucking swallow me right now. I don’t want to live anymore.

Heat flooded my face, but I’d already been caught. Might as well own it.

“Just appreciating the muscles.” I tried for casual and missed by miles. “It’s not as if I get to see it every day.”

His free hand found my waist, pulling me incrementally closer. The heat from his skin radiated through his borrowed t-shirt, and I pressed my legs together, fighting the arousal that pooled between my legs. If I reached down and touched myself right now, my hand would come out absolutely drenched, just like my panties.

I was so, so damn wet for him.

“Do you want to?” he murmured.

Yes. Shit. Yes. I very much want to.

I was almost completely pressed against him now, drowning in green eyes that had gone dark with want. My knees threatened to give out under me.

“Maybe,” I whispered, tilting my face up toward his. I couldn’t help myself.

He leaned down, forehead touching mine. “Sam…”

He sounded wrecked. Desperate. A man at the end of his rope, and I was the one holding the other end. I liked the mental image of that.

“Daddy, I’m hungry!”

We jerked apart at Noa’s call. Tyson took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes briefly before answering.

“On it, baby!”

He grabbed a shirt and pulled it on, then caught my hand in his, interlacing our fingers. My heart did a somersault inside my chest. “Help me?” His voice was gravel.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

We blew the candles and made our way downstairs, carefully not discussing what had almost happened. But my body stayed wired, hyperaware of every movement he made. The way his shoulders flexed as he reached for ingredients. How his fingers brushed mine when I handed him a knife. The heat that lingered where he’d touched my waist. My pussy spasmed each time he inched closer to me. I wasn’t in control of my body’s reactions anymore. This was pure instinct. Sheer built-up attraction.

His kitchen ran on gas, thank god, so we managed to cobble together dinner by candlelight. I took charge of making spinach and chicken pie while he chopped vegetables with unnecessary precision. The storm raged outside, but inside felt cozy and warm, lit by dancing flames that made everything feel surreal.

“This is really good!” Noa announced around a mouthful of pie. “I don’t even taste the vegetables!”

“Hidden veggie trick,” I winked. “Works every time.”

“I wish you cooked for us more. Your food is better than Daddy’s.”

“Hey!” Tyson protested.

“It’s true! And she plays better games. And tells better stories.” Noa slipped from her chair and ran to wrap her arms around my waist. “Never leave, okay? Promise you’ll never leave.”

My throat closed. Tears burned behind my eyes as I met Tyson’s gaze over his daughter’s head. He watched us with an expression that made my chest ache. Shit.

“I won’t, baby,” I whispered, still looking at him. “I promise.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. The yearning in his eyes was so naked, so intense, I had to look away before I did something stupid in front of Noa.

“I’ll cook more often,” I told her, voice too bright. “What do you say?”

“Yes!” She jumped up and down, then froze as thunder crashed overhead. “That was loud!”

“Just clouds being clumsy,” I soothed, pulling her close. “They bump into each other because they can’t see in the dark.”

“Like Daddy?”