Daddy's Sinful Desires: An Erotic Collections

ChNatalie's pov “Marcus, you want another beer or are you good?” I called from the kitchen doorway. He looked up from the couch where he sat with my dad, remote still in his hand, the game muted on the screen. Those dark eyes settled on me for a second longer than usual before he answered. “Yeah, Nat. Another one,” he said, voice low and easy. “Thanks.” I grabbed two cold bottles and walked back in. Dad took his without looking up, still talking about the score. When I handed Marcus his, our fingers brushed for half a second. Ordinary contact. Nothing that should have made my pulse jump the way it did. I sat on the arm of the chair across from him instead of the empty spot beside Dad, one leg crossed over the other. His gaze flicked down once, quick, then returned to the television like it had never happened. Dad kept talking about work and how Marcus had covered for him last week. I barely followed the conversation. I noticed the way Marcus’s throat moved when he swallowed and the way his shirt pulled across his chest when he leaned forward to set the bottle down. He was my father’s best friend, the man who had been around since before I could remember, the one who used to call me kiddo and toss me in the pool. Tonight none of that felt the same. Tonight every time he laughed the sound landed warmer, and I found myself wanting to hear it closer. “You still running in the mornings?” Marcus asked when Dad stepped into the other room to take a call. The house felt quieter without him. “Most days,” I said. “Around the park near campus. Why?” “Saw you last Tuesday. Early. You looked focused.” He took another drink, eyes staying on mine. “Didn’t want to interrupt.” Heat crawled up the back of my neck. He had watched me. The thought alone made me press my thighs together without meaning to. “You should have said something. I would’ve slowed down.” “Didn’t want to slow you down.” The corner of his mouth lifted just enough. “You looked good out there.” The words sat between us heavier than they should have. I licked my bottom lip without thinking and watched his attention drop to the movement for a fraction of a second. My pulse was louder now. I could smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with the beer, something clean and familiar that suddenly felt anything but safe. Dad came back still talking into the phone, waving a hand for five more minutes. Marcus shifted on the couch. His knee was close enough that if I leaned forward our legs would touch. I stayed where I was and hated how much I wanted to close the space. “You staying for dinner?” I asked, keeping my voice even. “Mom left lasagna in the fridge. I can heat it.” “If it’s no trouble.” “It’s not.” I stood, needing to move before the tightness in my chest got worse. In the kitchen I pulled the dish out and set the oven, fingers fumbling the dial once. Soft footsteps followed me. Marcus opened a cabinet for plates like he had done a hundred times before. Only this time the air felt different. “Need help?” he asked from behind me. I turned. He was closer than I expected, one hand on the counter edge. The height difference made me tip my chin up. For a second neither of us spoke. His eyes moved over my face, slow, and I saw the exact moment he realized he was looking too long. He didn’t step back right away. “I can manage,” I said, softer than I meant. “You can grab the salad if you want.” He reached past me for the bowl in the fridge. His arm brushed my shoulder. Warm. Solid. I didn’t move away. The contact lasted only a second yet my skin stayed aware of it long after he pulled back. We moved around each other setting the table and heating the food, saying ordinary things about the weather and how the semester was going. Every ordinary sentence felt like a cover for the other conversation happening underneath. The one where I kept noticing the way his hands looked, strong and a little rough, and wondered what they would feel like if he ever put them on me on purpose. The one where he kept glancing at my mouth when he thought I wouldn’t catch it. Dad finally finished the call and joined us. The three of us ate at the table like we always had. Marcus asked about my classes. I answered. Dad joked about how I still left shoes in the middle of the hallway. I laughed at the right times. Under the table my bare foot rested near the leg of Marcus’s chair. Once, when he shifted, the side of his shoe touched mine. Neither of us pulled away. The contact stayed light and constant through the rest of the meal, a secret neither of us acknowledged out loud. After dinner Dad went upstairs to finish some emails. Marcus helped me clear the plates. In the kitchen again, alone, the silence stretched. “You’re quiet tonight,” he said while rinsing a dish. “Just thinking.” “About what?” I leaned against the counter, arms folded under my chest. “About how long you’ve been coming around this house. How strange it is that I never really looked at you before.” He shut the water off and turned, drying his hands on a towel. His expression stayed careful, but something darker moved behind his eyes. “Natalie.” “What?” “You’re twenty-two.” “I know how old I am.” “And I’m your father’s best friend.” “I know that too.” My voice stayed steady even though my heart was slamming. “Doesn’t stop me from noticing things.” He set the towel down slowly. The air between us felt thick. I could see the muscle in his jaw flex once. He looked like he wanted to say something that would shut this down clean, but the words didn’t come. Instead he stepped closer, close enough that I had to look up again. His voice dropped. “This is a bad idea. You know that.” “Maybe.” I didn’t move back. “Doesn’t feel like one right now.” His hand lifted like he might touch my face, then stopped halfway. Fingers curled into a loose fist and dropped back to his side. The almost-touch left my skin hungry. I could smell him stronger this close, the clean soap and the faint beer and something warmer underneath that made my mouth go dry. “I should go,” he said, but he didn’t step away. “Yeah.” My answer came out quieter. “You should.” Neither of us moved for another few seconds. The house was quiet upstairs. The only sound was the low hum of the refrigerator and the way my own breathing had gone shallow. Marcus’s eyes dropped to my mouth again. I felt the pull of it, the dangerous little space where one more inch would change everything. Then he exhaled hard and took a step back. “Tell your dad I’ll call him tomorrow about the project.” His voice was rougher now. “Goodnight, Natalie.” “Goodnight, Marcus.” He left through the front door. I stood in the kitchen until I heard his truck start and pull away. My hands were still braced on the counter edge. The place where his almost-touch had hovered still burned. I pressed my thighs together and closed my eyes, already replaying every second of the evening, already knowing I would do it again the next time he came over. And I knew, with a certainty that both scared me and excited me, that he would come back.