Her Fiancé's Father's Obsession

CHAPTER 3

Jane

Julius froze. For one terrible, endless moment, his lips were still against mine and his body was rigid with shock.

I had made a mistake. A horrible and irreversible mistake. I was kissing my fiancé's father. The man who was supposed to become my father-in-law in less than twenty minutes.

What was I thinking? What was I—

Then his hand came up to cup the back of my neck, and he kissed me back. The kiss was not gentle or tentative. He devoured me.

His lips moved against mine with a hunger that stole my breath, his other hand sliding to my waist, pulling me closer. I gasped against his mouth and he took advantage, his tongue sweeping in to taste me.

He tasted nothing like Hudson.

My fiancè, who had stopped kissing me months ago, who had barely touched me except to criticize or berate me.

This was different. This was dangerous

The word flickered through my mind and alarm bells went off in my head, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

Julius kissed me like I was something precious and forbidden all at once, like he had been thinking about this and hating himself for it.

His fingers tightened on my neck, angling my head so he could kiss me deeper, and I whimpered into his mouth.

My hands found his shoulders, gripping the expensive fabric of his suit. He was solid, strong and so different from the cruel man I had just caught with my best friend.

“He's off limits,” My mind whispered frantically. “This is Hudson's father. Your father-in-law. This is wrong, so wrong—”

But my body didn't care. My body, which had been starved for touch, for kindness, for any indication that I was wanted, arched into him desperately.

I kissed him back with everything I had, pouring months of loneliness and pain into the press of my lips against his.

Julius made a low sound in his throat. It was a half groan, half growl, and suddenly his arms were around me, crushing me against his broad chest.

The kiss turned frantic and messy, our teeth clicking as I tilted my head for a better angle. His hand slid into my carefully pinned hair, scattering bobby pins across the elevator floor as my auburn waves came tumbling down.

I had never been kissed like this. I had never felt this burning and consuming need that made my skin feel too tight and my core pulse with heat.

Hudson's kisses had always been perfunctory and obligatory. A chore he had to perform before he could get to what he actually wanted.

But this felt like Julius wanted me. It felt like he couldn't help himself and like he was as lost in this as I was.

We finally broke apart, both breathing hard. Julius's grey eyes were dark, almost black in the dim elevator light. His hand was still tangled in my hair, his other arm still wrapped around my waist.

We stared at each other, faces inches apart, and I could see the war raging behind his eyes.

He was going to pull away. He would apologize and tell me this was a mistake. He would say we both weren't thinking clearly.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice breaking as I tried not to break down in tears again. “Please take me away from here. I can't—I can't stay. I can't face them. Please, Julius. Please.”

Something shifted in his expression. The conflict vanished, replaced by cold determination. He stood in one fluid motion, pulling me up with him, steadying me when my legs threatened to give out again.

“Come with me,” He said, his voice rough. “Don't look back.”

He took my hand, his palm warm and calloused against mine and led me out of the elevator, not toward the main entrance where guests would be milling about, wondering where the bride had gone, but deeper into the building, through service corridors and maintenance halls I didn't know existed.

My dress dragged behind us, the train catching on corners and doorframes, but Julius didn't slow down. He knew exactly where he was going, navigating the maze with the confidence of someone who owned half the city. Which he did.

We emerged into an underground parking garage, the fluorescent lights harsh after the dim hallways.

Julius's car, a sleek black luxury vehicle that probably cost more than I made in five years was parked nearby.

He opened the passenger door for me, helped me gather the ridiculous amount of fabric and then closed it behind me before walking around to the driver's side.

The door shut with a heavy, final thunk.

Silence fell, broken only by our ragged breathing. The tinted windows made the interior feel intimate and separate from the world outside. Julius's hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

I looked at him. My eyes raked over the strong line of his jaw. The way his dark hair was slightly mussed from my fingers. The rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath his tailored suit.

He was forty-five years old, almost twice my age, and he was the most attractive man I had ever seen.

He turned his head, meeting my gaze, and the air between us crackled with electricity. The look in my eyes must have told him enough because his eyes darkened even more.

“Jane,” He said, his voice low and rough. “If we do this—if we go any further—there's no going back. Do you understand?”

Maybe I should have said no. Maybe I should have asked him to take me home, to forget this ever happened. That would have been the smarter choice.

Instead, I reached across the center console and pulled his face to mine.

This kiss was different. It was slower and more deliberate and I poured everything into it, my heartbreak, my anger and my desperate need to feel wanted by someone.

Julius groaned against my mouth, his hand coming up to cradle my face with devastating gentleness. Then the gentleness shattered.

His other hand fisted in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me gasp, and he took control of the kiss. His tongue slid against mine, tasting me thoroughly.

I tried to get closer, frustrated by the console between us, and he made a frustrated sound of his own.

Without breaking the kiss, Julius released my hair and reached down, his hand finding the lever to push his seat back, creating more room.

I didn't hesitate. I climbed over the console in a tangle of white lace, straddling his lap, my dress billowing around us like a cloud.

“Christ,” Julius breathed against my lips as I settled on top of him. I could feel him, hard and thick beneath me and it sent a bolt of heat straight through my core.

His hands found my waist, gripping tight enough to bruise, holding me against him. I rocked forward experimentally and he groaned, his head falling back against the seat.

“Jane—”

I kissed him again, swallowing whatever warning he was about to give. His hands slid down to grip my hips through all the layers of fabric, guiding me as I moved against him.

The friction was maddening, but not nearly enough, but it felt so good.

This was wrong. So wrong, but I couldn't stop and neither, it seemed, could he.