Sleeping with my Best Friend's Father

002

Amara

The wind howled across the empty courtyard, cutting through my coat as if it could sense just how close I was to breaking. It didn't help that the sky was darkening all the more either. Snow piled around my boots, my fingers were numb, my breath shaky, but I kept glancing down the road, each second stretching like something cruel.

Then I saw them, twin white headlights slicing through the storm. My stomach dropped so hard I almost bent over.

Lucien Navarro’s car didn’t just drive. It glided. Smooth and silent, almost predatory.

A sleek black Mercedes purred to a stop in front of the locked campus gate like it owned the night. The engine barely made a sound, yet I felt its arrival in my bones.

The door opened, and he stepped out. Lucien didn’t rush through the snow. No, he cut through it, calm, composed, all whilst wearing a dark wool coat that looked like sin tailored into fabric. Snowflakes melted the moment they touched him, as if even the weather didn’t dare linger.

I'd seen many handsome men, older ones but none of them could hold a candle to the man in front of me. His hair was slicked back, with lines of white matching the weather. His eyes burned and smothered at the same time, and his face was the perfect example of God taking time to create him. When they said men aged like fine wine, Lucien Navarro was the f*****g blueprint.

His eyes found mine instantly, like he’d been tracking me long before I saw him.

He didn’t smile. Of course he didn’t.

“Amara.” His voice was low and clean, like steel sliding from a sheath. “You’re freezing.”

“I'm okay.” I swallowed, but my throat was too tight. “I’m fine.”

A lie.

His gaze flicked over me to my shaking hands, my wet hair, the snow clinging to my coat, slow and observant in a way that made heat dart between my ribs.

“You’re not.” He closed the distance between us in three measured steps. “Get in the car.”

The way he said it, quiet and steady, left no room for argument.

I obeyed. I hated that I obeyed so quickly.

Inside, the warmth hit me like a wave, fogging my glasses, numbing my face, and I fumbled with my seatbelt, hands trembling from the cold and something else entirely.

Lucien slid into the driver’s seat, after he'd stuffed my suitcase in the back seat, shutting the door with soft finality. The heater hummed to life, blowing warm air against my frozen cheeks, and I let out a small moan.

But the warmth didn’t matter, not when he was sitting beside me. Not when my entire body remembered exactly what he did to my nerves.

“You’re shaking.” He flicked his eyes toward me again.

“It’s just the cold,” I muttered.

“Is it?” His voice dipped, almost amused, almost something else. “Funny. Your pulse says otherwise.”

“Pulse?” I cursed inwardly. “Of course he would notice.”

Lucien rested one hand on the steering wheel, the leather glove framing fingers I should not have been looking at. His other hand draped over the console, relaxed, yet impossibly controlled. To others it was a pretty normal sight, but to me, all I could think of was the extra sensation of him taking my n*****s in his hands, before pushing them into his mouth and....

“Why didn’t you call me the moment you arrived?” he asked, pulling me back to the present

“I…” I stuttered, hoping my cheeks weren't reddebing from embarrassment. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

A slow exhale left him. Not quite a laugh, but something that unsettled me more.

“Amara,” he murmured, “if you think you need to justify needing help in a snowstorm, then you’ve spent too much time around boys who don’t know how to take care of anything.”

My breath caught. He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t supposed to say it like that. Not with that tone, and not with those eyes either

He pulled out onto the road, the car gliding forward. The snow blurred past us, white streaks against black night, but I barely looked outside. I was too busy not looking at him.

He drove with effortless confidence, one hand on the wheel, posture relaxed, and his gaze sharp. Every time the car dipped over a bump or turned, his coat shifted, revealing the powerful lines of his shoulders.

God, I hated myself for staring.

“Tell me what happened,” he said quietly.

“Um.” I hesitated. “The campus is closed. Everything’s locked. Lila suggested I stay with you.”

“Sensible,” he replied.

“What?” I blinked. “You don’t mind?”

He shot me a look, just a flicker, but it felt like it pierced straight through every layer of denial I had.

“If I minded,” he said softly, “I wouldn’t be here.”

Heat rushed up my neck so fast I had to look out the window. The roads were deserted. The storm swallowed everything except the two of us and the hum of the heater. My heartbeat filled the silence.

“You avoided calling me.” Lucien spoke again, his voice deepening, almost curious. “Why?”

“I wasn’t sure it was appropriate.” he paused after my response, then Lucien leaned back slightly, his gaze still forward. “Inappropriate,” he repeated, tasting the word. “Interesting.”

“W… what?”

“You keep using that word with me,” he murmured. “As if I’m the danger you should avoid. I'm just Lila's dad.”

“Lila's dad.” I muttered as I stiffened. If only he knew. “Aren’t you?”

His lips curved, barely. It was a ghost of a smile,dangerously subtle, but dangerously knowing.

“Amara,” he said quietly, “if I chose to be dangerous with you, you would know.”

Every inch of my skin lit up like a struck match, but I forced myself to breathe evenly.

“You’re doing it again,” he added.

“Doing what?” My voice cracked.

“Pretending the reaction you have to me is about anything other than what it is.” The breath punched out of my lungs.

“I don’t. react,” I whispered. Lucien finally turned his head, really looking at me, and the air between us tightened instantly.

“Sweetheart,” he said, voice lowered to something forbidden, “your silence is louder than any confession you could make.”

My thighs pressed together involuntarily. He noticed. Of course he did. He didn’t comment. He didn’t need to.

We drove the rest of the way in thick, electric quiet. When the gates to his mansion came into view, lit by warm golden lights cutting through the storm, my stomach twisted.

We were home, in his territory, with his rules. The gates opened automatically as we approached. The car rolled up the long driveway, past trimmed hedges dusted with snow, and toward the tall wooden doors glowing under the porch lights.

I knew Lila's parents were rich, but this was a discovery. A luxurious mansion stared back at me, and even though I wasn't dramatic, I could swear that this building could house all of my extended relatives from both my mother's and father's side.

Lucien parked, turned off the engine, and sat still for a moment. Snow melted on the windshield, dripping in slow patterns, then he turned to me again.

“Inside,” he said softly, “you’ll have your own room. You’ll be safe. Warm. Alone.”

The way he said alone made my pulse jump.

“But understand something, Amara.” My breath hitched.

“In this house,” he continued, eyes locked onto mine, “you don’t need to pretend with me. Not about anything.”

Heat surged through me so hard I had to look away. He stepped out into the snow, walked around the car, and opened my door himself. His gloved hand extended toward me, not touching, not insisting, just waiting.

And my heartbeat answered before my body did.

I placed my hand in his. Warm leather wrapped around my fingers. His voice was low, close, and dangerous. “Good girl.”

My knees nearly buckled.

Inside the mansion, as warmth hit my face and the silence pressed in around us, I noticed the lack of decorations. Did Mr Navarro not celebrate Christmas?

“Mr Navarro?” I finally found my voice.

“Amara, please.” His voice sent a shiver rolling down my spine, and my n*****s peaking underneath my clothes. “Lucien.”

“Oh,” I nodded. “Lila will be here for Christmas, right?”

“No.” Lucien removed his gloves slowly, his eyes never leaving me.

“What?” My breath froze, but clearly he wasn't done.

“She won’t return until after the holidays,” he said. “If she decides to, that is “

The truth sank into me like a plunge into ice water. I was spending Christmas alone, with Lucien Navarro.

His gaze sharpened, just a fraction, as if he could see every thought crashing through me.

“Welcome home, Amara.” The corner of his mouth lifted.

And I knew then, this was the beginning of something I wasn’t ready for, something I wouldn’t survive untouched.

Shit.