The woman smiled, her red lips pulling back to show a flash of perfect white teeth. Candlelight flickered over her face — over stunningly good looks that could have and did turn most heads in the dim, intimate restaurant we were sitting in.

She was regal. The right “stock” — the right type of royalty. Cultured, rich, perhaps a little snobby, and definitely thought she was going to get my cock that night.

She wasn’t.

Not even close.

But the point is, she was appropriate for me. More appropriate than, well…yeah, that. The date that night with the “appropriate” woman — a countess — wasn’t a date for me. It was medicinal. It was a necessary, surgical move to try and save me from myself. From my demons. From my obsession.

But it was. Not. Working.

Because I couldn’t concentrate on the Countess Victoria with her ridiculous cleavage, her fake tan, her fake bottle-blonde hair. I could even follow what she was saying to me, much less acknowledge it when her hand tried to hold mine.

Because all I could think about was her.

My problem. My obsession. The very off-limits, very never-can-happen her.

Lola.

My Lola.

I’d been strong for longer than I’m betting most men would have been. But no longer. I couldn’t pretend anymore — couldn’t ignore what I knew I was feeling.

…I couldn’t ignore the fact that Lola Abington, my sweet, innocent, nineteen-year-old ward, got my cock harder than a diamond. Not after what I’d seen the day before — the scene I’d walked into that’d gotten me more furious and more turned on than I’d ever been before. A confusing mix of emotions I was still trying to come to grips with.

Seeing her like that had flipped a switch inside of me. She’d gone from my young innocent little ward to a woman, and suddenly, what I’d been ignoring for years couldn’t be ignored any longer. I’d been doing everything in my power to pretend I didn’t see it, but I had. Oh had I.

Little Lola had grown up, and she’d grown up a lot.

And now I couldn’t ignore her anymore. And believe me, I’d tried. But seeing the look on her face, and the way she’d shrieked and covered her bare tits, but not quick enough that I didn’t get a tempting glimpse of pale pink nipple and the soft curve of her body. The way she’d looked right at me, her face wild and heated, her hands cupping her breast, and my cock about to rip a hole through my pants.

All of that had struck me like a branding iron, and I couldn’t go back to pretending anymore.

“Xavier?”

I blinked my thoughts away, turning and narrowing my eyes as I realized what was happening. The Countess Victoria had sidled around to my side of the table, now sitting directly next to me in the round banquet-style booth. Very, very next to me. She licked her lips, arching her brows suggestively. Her hand dropped to my thigh, and she grinned.

“Oh I think someone’s already ready for me, isn’t he?” she purred, clearly feeling the completely un-ignorable tent in my pants.

Yeah, it was time to shut this down. Now.

I pushed her hand away, ignoring her gasp as I slid from the table, trying to will my erection away as I stood.

“I have to leave.”

Her jaw dropped. “Wait, seriously? We haven’t even gotten our food yet.”

“Something’s come up at home.”

Something had come up at home. The day before. The week before. The fucking month before. And I was done pretending it hadn’t. My sweet little Lola had been a bad girl two nights before. Vey, very bad. So bad that she’d crawled under my skin and lit a fire there. So bad that my cock had barely gone down since. She’d decided to play the temptress, or the tease, or the brat, or whatever fire it was she’d been playing with that night. But that was done.

And I was done holding back.

I dropped a few hundred dollars on the table with a nod.

“Thanks for lovely evening,” I half-lied. I turned, ignoring Victoria’s huffs and curse words as I stormed from the restaurant. The valet brought my all-black vintage Mustang around — a classic for a classic my friends always joked with me, given my age.

My age.

More than double hers.

The engine roared as I floored it, pointing towards home.

This was wrong. This was inappropriate. This was filthy, and lewd, and so fucking forbidden.

But I was done fucking caring. I was done waiting, and ignoring this. I was done living right down the hall from the tempting little tease who’d had my cock hard for longer than I even wanted to admit, and not doing a thing about it.

My little Lola had grown up

She was already “mine,” but now I was going to show her just how mine she really was.