Tempt (Cloverleigh Farms Next Generation Book 4)
Tempt: Chapter 9

As soon as I was sure Zach was off the premises, I texted Winnie and Felicity.

Emergency! Emergency!

Who is available for wine at my house?

Winnie replied first.

Shoot! I’m helping with a wine tasting at Abelard until 8. Can I come then? I’ll bring a bottle.

While I was typing a response to her, Felicity chimed in.

I am! Hutton left for a business trip this afternoon and my catering gig was an afternoon thing. I’ll bring some snacks.

Perfect. I’ll see you guys there in 20.

Winnie sent another text.

What’s the emergency?

Felicity sent a row of arrows pointing up at Winnie’s question.

It’s too much to explain over text. But have either of you ever accidentally slept with someone’s dad?

Felicity answered first.

Um… no.

Then Winnie.

I slept with Hallie and Luna’s dad. But that was on purpose. Whose dad did you sleep with????

Another row of arrows from Felicity.

I’ll tell you when you get here. But remember that thing I said about being cursed? IT. IS. TRUE.

Winnie ended up getting off work a little earlier than expected, picked up Felicity at her house, and they arrived together. Felicity had catering bags filled with food she’d made testing out recipes over the last couple days, and Winnie carried two bottles of wine from Abelard Vineyards, where she worked.

“Talk,” she said, as she grabbed a corkscrew from a kitchen drawer and opened a pinot noir. “What’s this emergency and whose dad did you bang?”

“You have to promise not to judge,” I said, taking three glasses down from a shelf and placing them on the counter by Winnie. “And Winifred, so help me God, you cannot breathe a word of this to anyone.”

“I won’t,” she said, offering me her pinkie. “Pinkie swear.”

I hooked my little finger to hers and looked her right in the eye. “Thank you. This cannot get out.”

Felicity switched my oven on and spun to face me. “I’m dying, Mills! What did you do?”

I backed up to the kitchen table and flattened my palms on its edge, bracing myself. “Okay. The guy I slept with in New York last month? The hot mysterious stranger who spanked me?”

“Yes?” Felicity and Winnie chorused, looking at me intently.

“Turns out, he’s Mason’s biological dad.”

Winnie’s jaw fell open.

Felicity’s eyes blinked behind her glasses. “What?”

“Wait a minute. Wait a minute.” Winnie waved her hands in the air, as if she was erasing the words I’d just spoken. “Hot spanking stranger is Mason’s . . . dad?”

“Yes! Remember how I told you he never knew who his biological father was? Evidently—and I just found this out today—his mom wrote down the guy’s name in a letter that Mason discovered last summer while finally going through her things. He reached out.”

“Holy balls!” Winnie shrieked. “Talk about a plot twist!”

“How does he have a son that old?” Felicity asked.

I told them what I knew about the fateful few days Zach had spent in Frankenmuth.

“Frankenmuth,” Winnie tittered. “Who knew it was such a hotbed of sexual scandal?”

I glared at her. “Anyway, the girl—Mason’s mom, Andi—never told Zach she got pregnant. But it’s true.”

“Paternity test confirmed it?” Felicity asked.

I nodded. “Yep.”

“So when did you finally put it together?” Winnie wondered.

“Today at Mason and Lori’s rehearsal, when I walked into the lobby and Mason introduced me to him. I almost passed out.”

Both of them were silent a moment, and then Winnie turned around and poured three glasses of wine. Handing one to me, she said, “Here. You’ve earned this.”

“Thanks.” I took a hefty swallow. “It was so weird, you guys.”

“What happened next? Did you let on?” Felicity asked as she pulled a baguette from her bag and took out a cutting board.

“No. We covered.” I recounted the G-rated version of the story we’d told about how we met. “And I thought we did a good enough job, but later, after everyone else had gone on to dinner, Zach came into the bar—where I was applying vodka to the wound—and told me that Mason asked him if anything had happened between us.”

Winnie gasped. “How did he answer?”

“He said no! What could he say?” I tapped my chin in jest. “‘Hmm, actually, now that I think of it, I did bone your ex-girlfriend a few times at that hotel.’” I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. “It’s just so weird.”

“But you didn’t know,” Felicity pointed out, slicing the baguette. “So it’s not like you did anything to be ashamed of.”

“I guess not.” I looked into my wine. “You guys, I need to get something out, but you can’t judge me.”

“No judging,” Winnie promised.

“He’s so hot,” I moaned, stretching out the word hot like melting mozzarella. “Like, so unbelievably hot. I don’t care whose dad he is, that man is smoking. Seeing him today was just like—” I searched for words to describe the feeling. “A punch in the gut. Or maybe in the lady bits. I have such a huge crush on him.”

“Why not invite him over?” Winnie asked.

I gaped at her. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not? You’re two single, consenting adults.” She paused. “Wait, he’s single, right?”

“As far as I know.”

“There, see?” She lifted her shoulders. “And what Mason doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Call him up.”

“No,” I said again, even though my body was begging for yes. “Zach doesn’t want to start building their relationship with a lie, and I don’t blame him. We had the one night together, and that’s all it will ever be.”

“But Millie,” Winnie pressed. “For once, you found a guy who’s not a lost puppy! What if this is it?”

My neck stretched forward. “Are you listening to yourself, Winifred? Are you picturing me sitting at the Thanksgiving table with two men I’ve slept with, and they’re father and son? Are you imagining the way everyone will be staring at me, wondering what happened to my sense of decency? Does Mason say, ‘Hey Mom, can you pass the turkey?’”

Both my sisters burst out laughing. “Yeah, I guess that won’t work,” Winnie admitted.

Felicity took a sip of her wine, then began brushing the slices of baguette with olive oil. “It’s just a bummer you had so much fun with him, and he’s here for the weekend and probably wishing he could see you again too.”

He was. I knew he was. But it didn’t matter.

“Well, it’s no use wishing for what we can’t have,” I said, doing my best to push Zach out of my mind. “How about we watch a movie?”

Later that night, long after my sisters had gone, the lights were out and I was lying in bed with my vibrator beside me.

But instead of using it, I lay awake, wondering what Zach was doing. Was he still out with the wedding party? Was he in his hotel room alone? Was he thinking about me? Or had he been more successful than I had at filing our chemistry in a box labeled UNSAVORY and moving on with his thoughts?

I flopped onto my side and stared at my nightstand. I tapped my phone to see what time it was—just after eleven. He was probably still out, right? So I shouldn’t text him. Someone might see it.

Then again, it’s not like my name would show up on his phone, I reasoned. He didn’t have me saved in his contacts or anything.

Biting my lip, I slowly pulled the drawer where I kept his card open. Reached inside. Took it out.

Then I rolled onto my back and stared at it in the dark. Slid my finger over its edges. Remembered the sound of his deep, rough-hewn voice in my ear. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t leave without kissing you.

I reached for my phone.

He probably won’t reply anyway, I told myself. He’s probably still out having fun or asleep already.

I typed his number into my phone and hit message.

Still thinking about you. I hope you’re having a good night.

Then before I lost my nerve, I hit send.

I was still holding my breath when three dots appeared. I let it out in a whoosh when his reply came through.

Thinking about you too. The night would be better if you were here.

Oh my God. Oh my God. What did that mean? Was he still out? Was he saying he wished I’d come to dinner?

Where are you?

My hotel room. Call me?

I gasped. Heart pounding, I did what he asked.

“Hey.” That voice. Just one word from him caused my nipples to tingle.

“Hi,” I said softly. “How did it go tonight?”

“Fine. A little weird, but fine.”

“Weird how?”

“Weird to hear myself introduced as someone’s dad all night long.”

“Oh.”

“I cut out pretty quickly after dinner. Grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a liquor store on my way back here. I was hoping a drink would help me fall asleep.”

“But it didn’t?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe it’s jet lag keeping you up.”

“It’s not jet lag.”

“What is it?”

He didn’t answer right away. “I’m glad you reached out.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

I closed my eyes. “Even though it’s wrong?”

“It’s just a phone call. What could be wrong about that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I guess it might be considered wrong if I asked what you were wearing.”

My lower lip fell open. Heat bloomed in my nether regions.

“But tell me anyway,” he said. “And then take it all off.”

I sucked in my breath again. Then I sat up, whipped off my cotton top, and lay back again before wriggling out of my flannel bottoms and panties. “I was wearing very cute red and white pajamas,” I told him. “But now I’m naked.”

“Good girl.”

I shivered and pulled the covers up again. “What about you? What are you wearing?”

“Black pants with a drawstring waist.”

I pictured him lying there in a dark room, chest bare, pants low on his hips. “Untie the string.”

“I’m way ahead of you.”

I flattened a palm on my stomach. “How far ahead?”

“Far enough that I’ve got my cock in my hand, and every word you say is making it harder.”

Oh, fuck. I glanced at the toy next to me. “What are you thinking about?” I asked breathlessly.

“Your body. Your mouth. Your eyes. The taste of your pussy on my tongue.”

“God, I love your tongue,” I whimpered, sliding my hand between my legs.

“I wish I was fucking you with it right now.” His breathing was louder. Faster.

“Let’s pretend,” I whispered, moving my fingertips over my clit.

“I forgot what a bad girl you are,” he said, like it delighted him. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Are you wet from the stroke of my tongue?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now suck your fingers.”

I brought my fingers to my mouth, brushed them over my lips, then sucked them, being sure to make a little noise about it.

He groaned. “God, I wish that mouth was on my cock.”

“Me too,” I whispered. “I didn’t get to do it that night.”

“Put your fingers between your legs again,” he ordered. “Put them inside you, as deep as you can reach, then rub your clit.”

I did what he asked, eyes closed, thighs open. “Zach. It feels so good.”

“I want you to come for me,” he said in that tone I’d been fantasizing about all week, the one that said there will be no refusal. “Don’t stop until it happens.”

Oh God, oh God . . . I willed myself not to think as I worked my body into a frenzy. I focused on everything outside my head—the tension building between my legs, his breathing growing ragged in my ear, the silvery darkness behind my eyelids. I let the memory of his tongue and his hands and his body on mine work as hard as my fingers, and in no time at all, I was gasping and sighing and lifting my hips as the waves crashed through me.

“Such a good girl,” he rasped. “Listening to you come made my cock even bigger.”

“I wish you were here to fuck me instead of your hand,” I breathed. “I’ve wished you were here so many times.”

He laughed suddenly, low and sexy. “Have you done this before, you wicked thing?”

“Yes,” I confessed. “I have a toy. It’s not nearly as good as the real thing, but it was better than nothing.”

“Do you have it now?”

“Yes.”

“Turn it on.”

I reached for the Lelo, my pulse hammering wildly. “Okay.”

“Now put the tip inside your sweet, wet pussy. Just an inch.”

I did what he requested, moaning in agonized pleasure. “I want more.”

“Do you like my cock inside you?”

“Yes,” I hissed.

“I’m giving you more. Can you feel it?”

I slid the toy in a little deeper. “Yes.”

“Now take it out again. Hold it against your clit.”

The hum against my swollen, sensitive bud was almost too much. “Oh, God . . . I can’t take it . . .”

His breath was labored, his words a struggle. “I want you to ride me.”

“Huh?”

“Do as I say.”

“But—”

“Listen to me,” he demanded. “Get on your knees. Put the toy on the bed.”

I obeyed, flipping onto my knees, centering the toy between my thighs, and sinking down onto it. I moaned as it thrummed inside me, the short arm vibrating against my clit, the long arm pressing against that spot that made my entire lower body begin to clench. “You’re so deep,” I whispered, grabbing onto the headboard with my free hand, just like I had in his hotel room. “You’re so hard. And I’m so wet. So tight.”

“Yes,” he growled. “Fuck yes. You’re amazing. You’re so fucking hot. And you’re such a good girl.”

His praise was like gasoline on the flames. “You’re going to make me come again,” I whispered, widening my knees to take the toy even deeper. My insides tightened like a vise. “So close.”

“Fuck yes. Come again for me. Come on my cock. Just like that. Just like—” And his words devolved into a long, sensual moan that sent me over the edge and I circled my hips as the climax hit, remembering the hot, pulsing throb of him inside me, yearning to feel it again.

A moment later, I opened my eyes. On the other end of the line, I could still hear him breathing. Quickly, I maneuvered the toy out from under me and switched it off. Tossing it to the floor, I sat with my legs pressed together, feeling self-conscious. Now what?

“Hey,” he said. “Give me a minute?”

“Of course.” I waited, my heart decelerating from an end-stretch gallop to a more gentle canter. But I was still nervous—what was there to say to each other?

“Okay, I’m back.”

“Hi,” I said. My voice cracked.

He laughed. “You okay?”

“I think so.”

“But you’re not sure?”

I exhaled. “I’m trying to decide how terrible I should feel about this.”

“Like on a scale of one to ten?”

“Sure.”

“One,” he said.

“No way. It’s got to be more than that. I’m the one who texted you.”

“But I told you to call.”

“And then I did.”

“I told you to take your clothes off.”

“True.” I had to laugh. “That was pretty early in the conversation. If we even had a conversation.”

“There was some talking. I’m almost sure of it.” He paused. “Although I had a hand in my pants the whole time. So I’m thinking I’m definitely a ten, and you’re maybe a three.”

“The whole time, huh?”

“I was thinking about you even before you texted. Which is probably why things escalated so quickly. The whiskey also played a role.”

“So did the wine I consumed tonight.” I leaned back against the headboard. “I was trying to drown my shame.”

“I don’t want you to be ashamed, Millie.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Not for what happened in New York. We didn’t know about the connection. It was not an informed decision.”

“And tonight?” I asked quietly.

“Tonight.” He exhaled. “Yeah, tonight’s a little different.”

“I could say I only texted you to say goodnight, but I’d be lying,” I told him. “Deep down, I wanted what happened to happen.”

“I did too. Actually, I wanted it in person, but this was a close second.”

I laughed, but it was tinged with regret. Then I forced myself to say the truth. “But I think we’d better draw the line right here and now, and we need to mean it this time. This can’t happen again, not even over the phone.”

“I agree.”

“So I’m—I’m going to delete your number, okay? And you delete mine. That way we won’t even be tempted.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” I hesitated. “So I guess I’ll say goodnight for real. And I’ll see you at the wedding.”

“The wedding. Right.”

“And I’m going to be cool and professional tomorrow, even though that’s not how I’ll feel on the inside. Don’t take it the wrong way.”

“I understand.” He paused. “You’re not going to wear that black dress you had on in New York, are you?”

“No.”

“Good. Then there’s a chance I can keep my hands to myself.”

I smiled. “Goodnight, Zach.”

“Night.”