As he sits across from me, Daddy stretches his long legs out under the table.
His bare foot brushes against mine.
My gaze snaps up to his.
His startled expression makes me think the touch was an accident.
His lips quirk up as he does it again.
Mom tells us about how her disaster of a morning turned into a golden opportunity.
Daddy nods and gives the appropriate responses, but as he does, his foot slides back and forth over mine.
I never thought my foot would be an erogenous zone.
I have a feeling my entire body is one nerve ending when it comes do Daddy’s touch.
When I let my foot trail up the inside of his calf, I notice him shift in his seat and grunt.
Mom asks him if he had a rough day at work.
“Lot’s of heavy lifting today,” he tells her.
“Maybe you should consider getting a massage,” Mom says.
Daddy’s brows lift as he seems to think that over.
Then his gaze moves to mine as he says. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“Maybe that’s exactly what I need, a massage.”
”Maybe you can get one this weekend, while Mom’s on her business trip,” I suggest as I trail my foot all the way up to his knee.
“Are you trying to get me out of the house?” he asks as he captures my ankle beneath the table.
I swallow as he pulls my foot higher.
He scoots his chair further under the table, then presses the arch of my foot to the hard length tenting his shorts.
I have to clear my throat before I can speak.
“No.”
”Maybe I’ll just take you with me.
I’ll make sure you get a massage, too.”
I open and close my mouth, but no sound comes out because under the table, he shifts his hips and starts thrusting against my foot.
“That’s a great idea,” Mom says.
“Then you’ll still get to do something special, even though we had to cancel your sleepover.” She turns to Daddy.
“And you get to relax even though you don’t get to go fishing.”
Normally, this would be where Daddy reminds Mom that I’m eighteen and can easily stay home on my own.
But he doesn’t, which means that he’s also thinking about all the things we can do with a weekend alone.
I keep putting food in my mouth, but I barely taste it because all my concentration is on the shift of Daddy’s hips, the hungry looks he sends my way, and the harsh breaths he lets out every few seconds.
When our plates are empty and our stomachs are full, Mom says, “board game or movie?”
”Movie,” Daddy and I say at the same time.
There’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate on a board game.
“We can watch that new movie action move you wanted to see, Garrett? Why don’t you go cue it up?”
Daddy thrusts against the arch of my foot one last time before letting it go.
“Sure.”
I smirk at him when he holds his plate low and directly in front of his abdomen.
With a raised brow, he looks down at my chest.
My nipples are hard and I’m so wet that my thighs are once again slick, but it’s a lot easier for a woman to hide or brush off the telltale signs of arousal.
After rinsing my dishes and loading them into the sink, I pluck a blanket from the hall closet and head to the family room.
Mom’s curled up on one end of the sofa and Daddy’s sprawled in the corner where I usually sit.
“That’s my spot,” I say.
“Technically, it’s my spot since I bought the sofa.”
I huff and roll my eyes.
“Just sit next to me. It’s not the end of the world.”
I look over to find Mom looking down at her phone.
She’s not paying much attention to our conversation, even though it’s for her benefit.
“Fine,” I say, as if I’m being put out.
I pull the blanket up to my neck, spin around and sit next to Daddy.
But when my ass hits the sofa, I pull in a breath because beneath me is the hot palm of Daddy’s hand.