Page 63 of Worth the Try
We’ve been together every night since. I have never felt like this. Never thirsted for someone so thoroughly. It wasn’t even close to this with my ex, this kind of all-consuming desire that won’t stop. And it’s not just physical—though, my Lord, that man is heaven-sent—but it’s more. Like I’d do just about anything to protect him, his heart, his family. It doesn’t make sense, the way I’m so filled up with emotion. How could a few days of him have me so twisted up?
Because it’s been more than a few days. Because I’ve been falling for him from the moment I saw him walk into that room at the Granite headquarters. Because he and his daughter are the very thing I never knew I was looking for.
Is this what it feels like to be cherished for who you truly are, and not what you can or can’t win? To be seen for me, not what my body can or can’t do?
I know there’s still a lot we both have to learn about each other, but even still. Whatever this is, I like it.
After my shower, I get dressed and I head over. Ansel’s in the kitchen like always, his wire-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose as he concentrates on the French braid he’s weaving down Rosalie’s back. I taught him the new braid and he’s been working on perfecting it every day since, much to Rosie’s delight.
Father and daughter look up simultaneously as I enter, both of them smiling broadly. Their happiness mirrors my own as my stomach clenches, emotions threatening to drown me. I blink back a sudden rush of tears. I amallup in my feels this morning.
“Who wants breakfast?” I ask, having finally bullied Ansel into taking my help in the mornings. As much as I love his desire to take care of, well, everyone, I’m also determined to make the man accept help.
“Me!” Rosalie chirps. “Can I have toasty eggs?”
“Yes, ma’am!” I answer, giving her a salute and turning to gather the supplies. When I look back at Ansel, I catch him eyeing my butt and I stick my tongue out at him. With a silent laugh, I ask, “Want a smoothie?”
He smiles softly. “I’ve already had it. Thank you.” He finishes with Rosalie’s braid, and she hops down, darting out of the kitchen to do who knows what.
Ansel takes the opportunity to slide up behind me, running his hands down my waist before gripping my hips and pressing against my bottom. There’s no mistaking his hardness. “You’re killing me in that outfit,” he growls, leaning to scrape his teeth against my neck.
I shiver, barely managing to set the eggs and shredded cheddar cheese on the counter before he’s turning me aroundand kissing me deeply. I press against him, pliant and willing to take anything he wants to give me. His hands slide up to my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples through the body-skimming halter dress I’m in. I’d put it on because it was comfortable, not thinking a thing about it. But now, my core throbbing with want as Ansel leans into me, the countertop digging into my back as he slides a hand beneath the fabric, I’m applauding my fantastic choice.
He slides the silk of my panties to the side, and I bite my lower lip as he dips a finger into me.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
“Damn, woman,” he rasps. “You gonna let me make you come right here, Elodie?”
I grind against his hand, my breath hitching.
“Daddy!”
We fly apart, Ansel angling his body to cover me as I shove my dress into place, my cheeks flaming. “Hey, Rosie bug!”
She waves a half-finished drawing at him. “I found it! I’ll finish it for you today, okay?”
“Sounds amazing,” he says, reaching back to squeeze my leg before moving to the sink to wash his hands.
The transformation is so thorough that I can’t help but be impressed. He picks Rosie up as she flings herself at him, throwing a wink at me over her head.
I swoon.
Later,after Rosie takes a surprising but welcome nap, we decide to go to the library. She returns the stack of books we’d borroweda couple of weeks ago, and grabs my hand to lead me through the stacks for a fresh batch. Her hand fits perfectly in mine, soft and warm, and I squeeze it.
She looks up at me, hazel eyes crinkling. “I love you, Elle Belle.”
The words slam into me, catching me so thoroughly off-guard that I nearly stumble. “I love you, too, Rosie Bug.” I mean it, too. The love I have for this little girl surges through me something fierce.
She grins. “Of course you do.”
I giggle. “Okay, missy. Let’s pick some books.”
We’re stopped at a red light on our way home when the back of my neck tingles with awareness. I look at Rosie through the rearview mirror, but she’s buckled in her booster seat and flipping happily through one of the new books. Then I notice the car behind us, realizing it’s been following us since we left the library’s parking lot, and—my brow furrows. Does he have acamera?
Adrenaline floods my system, and I punch the gas when the light turns green. The car keeps up, even as I take a turn away from the house. It stays with us, turn after turn, and I know, deep in my bones, that the driver is following us.
I make the decision on instinct. Forcing my voice to remain calm, I say, “Let’s go see Daddy, sound good?”
