CRAVING DADDY'S BEST FRIEND

Chapter Three: Playing With Fire

Chapter Three: Playing with Fire

Abigail Macron

​The tension in the room was so thick it felt tangible, a suffocating heat that made the silk of my top stick to my skin. My father remained completely buried in his legal briefs, his pen scratching against the paper, entirely oblivious to the fact that his best friend was quietly losing his mind right across from him.

​I didn't pour a drink. Instead, I picked up a small clear clean bowl of green olives from the bar cart, popped one into my mouth, and walked slowly toward the large leather armchair positioned directly opposite the desk—and right next to where Caleb had moved.

​I didn't sit like a "good girl" would. I sank back into the deep leather, intentionally opening my legs and letting my short skirt slide up my thighs, exposing the inviting expanse of bare skin and a freshly shaved p***y.

I kept my eyes fixed entirely on Caleb, tracking the way his gaze immediately snapped downward, his pupils dilating as he took in the view.

I smirked, knowing I had won.

​"The Q3 projections look solid, David," Caleb said, though his voice had a rougher edge to it now, a slight roughness he couldn't quite mask. He took a heavy swallow of his Scotch, his throat bobbing. "But if we don't finalize the logistics by tomorrow afternoon, the window closes."

​"Tomorrow? That’s tight, Caleb," my father voiced, rubbing his temples without looking up. "I’ll need to review the compliance clauses again tonight. My head is splitting."

​"Take your time, David," I chimed in, my voice dripping with faux sweetness. "You've been working so hard. You should let Caleb handle the heavy lifting for a bit."

​Caleb’s head snapped toward my face, his dark eyes flashing with a mix of warning and raw desire. He knew exactly what I was doing. I was weaponizing my presence, turning my father's study into a psychological battlefield for us.

​"Abby’s right, man," my father said, finally looking up and offering Caleb a tired smile. "I think I need to clear my head for a few minutes. I’m going to step out to the veranda, call the compliance team, and see if they can expedite the review.

​The moment the French doors clicked shut behind my father, leaving him pacing the brightly lit veranda outside, the atmosphere in the study shifted violently. The safety net was gone.

​Caleb didn't hesitate. He set his crystal glass down on the mahogany desk with a sharp, heavy thud that echoed through the room. In three long, predatory strides, he was towering over my chair. His shadow completely covered me, just as I had imagined upstairs in the dark.

​"What the hell do you think you’re playing at, Abigail?" he demanded, his voice a low, gravelly hiss that vibrated straight through my bones.

​"I don't know what you mean, Caleb," I whispered, tilting my head back against the leather, refusing to back down. I looked up at him through my lashes, my lips parting slightly. "I'm just sitting here, being a good girl. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

​"You are not wearing panties!" he growled, bending down so his face was mere inches from mine.

The scent of him—smoke, leather, and pure, intoxicating masculinity—flooded my senses, making my head spin.

"The skirt. The lipstick. The way you brushed against me at the bar. You’re pushing me, Abby. You’ve been pushing me for months, and you have absolutely no idea what kind of fire you’re playing with."

​"Then show me," I breathed, the audacity in my own voice shocked me. My heart was hammering so hard I was certain he could see it pulsing against the silk of my top. "I'm not a child anymore, Caleb. Stop treating me like one. Stop pretending you don't look at me when my father's back is turned."

​A dark, dangerous look took over Caleb's features. The control he prided himself on, the legendary discipline that made him millions in the boardroom, snapped like a brittle twig.

​Before I could breathe, his massive, hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my jaw with a firm, possessive grip that forced me to look straight into his eyes. His thumb pressed firmly against my lower lip, deliberately smearing the dark red lipstick I had so carefully applied.

​"You think you’re a woman because you learned how to dress like one?" he whispered, his eyes blazing as they racked over my face. His breath was hot against my skin. "You’re a brat who doesn't understand that if I touch you the way I want to, there is no going back. I will ruin you, Abigail. I will ruin your father's trust, and I will destroy everything in this house just to have a taste of you."

​Instead of pulling away, I leaned into his touch, my tongue darting out to lick the thumb that was smudging my lips. I felt a violent tremor run through his large frame.

​"Ruin me then," I whimpered, my hand coming up to grasp his wrist, feeling the heavy, frantic pulse beating beneath his expensive watch. "Please, Caleb. I'm already ruined. I've been ruined since the first time I saw you look at me like that."

I brought his hand down to my lap, using it to push my skirt further up to make him really see what I was offering. As soon as his fingers grazed the top of my clits, he quickly pulled out like he was shocked by electricity.

“I know you want this too, Caleb.”

​Caleb let out a low, defeated groan—a sound of pure surrender. His hand moved from my jaw, his large fingers tangling into the waves of my hair, tilting my head back further. He leaned in, his lips hovering barely a millimeter from mine, his chest crushing against my bare shoulders. I could feel the hard, rigid line of his body pressing against the edge of the chair, demanding everything I had to give.

​"God help me," he rasped against my lips.

​Just as his mouth began to drop to claim mine in a bruising, desperate kiss, a shadow moved on the veranda outside. The sound of my father’s footsteps returning toward the glass doors cut through the silence like an electric shock.