“Have you watched Twilight?” Dakota asks me. It’s the first time she and I have been together since the day at Goulburn, and her inquisition game is strong. Astute and intelligent, she seems to be able to adjust to every situation with ease.

Only managing to see each other on the weekends, it’s been a week since I saw Jagger last. Texting and talking all week long makes up for the time apart somewhat, but I miss his touch and fantasize about what it would be like to truly be with him.

“The question is, who hasn’t watched Twilight?”

Jagger walks into the kitchen, and Dakota points in his direction. We both laugh at our private joke, Jagger looking at us like we’ve lost our minds.

“Team Edward or Team Jacob?” she probes.

“Definitely Team Jacob?”

“Really? Edward is so sparkly.” Relieved that we have things in common, spending time with Dakota becomes uncomplicated.

“I don’t know. I just can’t help myself. I always root for the underdog.” So much truth in such a simple statement--my whole adult life has been defined by that particular choice.

Coming up behind me, Jagger snakes his arms around my stomach. “The underdog, huh? Is that how I got the girl?”

“What girl?” I ask, playing dumb.

He spins the rotating stool. “You’re my girl, right?” Sitting here in front of his daughter, his words bleed vulnerability.

“I don’t know; Dakota, am I his girl?” Surprised by my decision to include her, his smile is something I wish was more permanent and less of an accessory.

“Will you watch all five Twilight movies with her?” She calls over my shoulder.

“There’s five of them?” His eyes dart between the two of us, trying to work out our scheming. “Of course,” he chuffs, finally catching on. “Better yet, I’ll watch it with both my girls.”

“Oh Dad, I don’t really think you know what you signed up for.” She heads for the living room and fiddles with the remote controls. “You also have to watch all eight Harry Potter’s and then, only then, will Emerson be your girl.”

Raising my eyebrows in amusement, I smirk at Dakota’s sassiness. “I think the queen has spoken.”

“Does it count if I read the books?”

I’m sure Dakota and I look like two cartoon characters with their mouths hanging open in surprise. “You read Harry Potter?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I had a lot of time to kill.”

“Oh my God, that is the coolest thing ever,” Dakota squeals.

“Isn’t it?” If there was any doubt I was undeniably attracted to the six foot four wall of muscle that Jagger is, his admission to reading Harry Potter my have just set my body on fire.

“I know that look,” he teases. He struts closer, lowering his voice so Dakota doesn’t hear. “I didn’t know guys reading did that for you.”

Slipping my hands inside his back pockets, I pull him toward me. “Not guys. Just one.”

His eyes flick between Dakota and me. “I’ll have to remember that for later,” he whispers. He captures my lips in one swift movement, giving me the smallest preview of what’s to come. He breaks the kiss, his smirk sinful. “Sorry, I’ve got a date with the whole Twilight collection. I’m trying get the girl.”

* * *

“I don’t think he passed the test.” Dakota looks down at her dad, spread out on the couch, asleep, and snoring loudly. “You can’t get the girl if you fall asleep.”

“He looks so peaceful though, and finding out about Harry Potter definitely makes up for the sleeping,” I point out, defending his efforts.

“Can you believe he read Harry Potter?” Her face lights up with pride. “My dad, enjoying the same things as me, is pretty cool.”

“Has it been good having him home?” I wait patiently to see if she’ll answer, or whether I’ve overstepped an invisible line.

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” she reveals cautiously. “I was nervous, but the more time we spend together, the more I realise we’re the same. We like the same things and find the same things funny.” The innocence in her response is heart-stopping. To be worried about whether you would get along, as opposed to why he was away, or what that did to her family, is the true definition of unconditional love.

“He ate a lot of popcorn though, and he’s a terrible sharer,” she adds, pulling me out of my musings.

“That’s true. Next time we have a bowl each.”

“I like the sound of next time.”

We both stare at the man sprawled out in front of us, his continued presence significant to two very different relationships.

“Thanks for tonight Emerson, I really enjoyed your company.”

“No, there’s nothing to thank me for. You’re the one who let me crash daddy-daughter night.”

“I’m going to head off to bed. I’m really tired.” She leans forward, kissing her dad on his forehead. “Night, dad.”

He stirs, slowly adjusting his eyes to his surroundings. “Shit,” he groans. “I fell asleep.”

“Emerson already told me she’s upset with you,” Dakota taunts. “You’ll have to beg for her forgiveness.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that right? And are you mad too?”

“No. I’m going to go to bed, but tomorrow there will be a quiz on what you watched.”

He chuckles. “I can’t wait. Let me come and tuck you in.” He kisses my forehead. “I’ll be back.”

“Take your time.”

“Bye Emerson.” Dakota waves at me as she walks away, and I return the gesture. Picking up the empty bowls and glasses, I head to the kitchen and add the dishes to the dishwasher.

I hear his footsteps before I see him. “Thank you for spending time with her.” His lips skim the length of my shoulder. “She really enjoyed herself.”

Angling my head, I give his mouth room to roam. ”It was my pleasure.”

“Stay over.”

“Is that a question or an order?” Every weekend has been a test, trying to fight the urge to take the plunge.

“Whichever one gives me the thing I want most.”

“What’s that?” I ask, coyly.

“You,” he says, his fingers sinking into my torso, and his thick erection pressing into my lower back. “All of you.”

Spinning me around he wastes no time with words, kissing me with frantic need. His hunger and thirst for me is borderline savage, and I couldn’t tame him if I tried. His tongue invades my mouth, and I welcome the onslaught.

Abruptly he stops. “I can’t do this.”

My lips pulsate from the pressure of his kisses, and I whimper at the loss of contact. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to take it slow, Em. I want to worship every inch of your fucking body.” His voice cracks. He’s barely hanging on by a thread.

“Listen to me,” I demand. “I know what you’re up against. I know where you’ve been and what you’ve been without. I want to give myself to you in all the ways you want me.” Standing on my tiptoes, I hold his jaw and bring his ear near my mouth. “So, stop overthinking it and fuck me like you mean it, Jagger. Because we’ve got forever for fairytales.”

His body coils at my invitation. His eyes blaze, my words lighting him up in flames. He literally throws me over his shoulder, and I cover my mouth to stop my squeal from waking up the rest of the house. It takes less then three steps to reach his room where he drops me onto the bed and stares at me with wonder.

Reaching for the bottom of my tank, I raise it over my head and throw it on the floor. Only my lace bra stops my breasts from spilling over.

“I spent twelve fucking years in this fantasy, and nothing I conjured up could’ve prepared me for you.” He pulls his shirt over his head, and my hands itch to trace every cut, every dip. I hook my fingers into my waistband, but his hands stop me. “This part’s all mine.”

The thick denim scratches the length of my legs, while my panties follow suit. His eyes trail every new inch of my exposed skin. Dropping the clothes to the floor, his eyes zero on my naked, but noticeably wet centre. A visible confession of my arousal.

“You’re wet.”

“What can I say? Your girl’s been waiting.”

“Fucking tease,” he growls. Kneeling in front of the bed, he drags me to the edge of the mattress. “Legs over my shoulders.”

His demands have my body quivering, every nerve ending on high alert. His wide, calloused hands grip my outer thighs, while he sprinkles kisses on his way to my centre. Open and bare, I’m high on the anticipation of his touch.

His tongue takes its first swipe, and a united moan ricochets off the walls. Moving in circles around my clit, he teases with an alternate dance of sucking and flicking. Gripping his hair, I rock against his face for friction; the wetness from his mouth soothing the burn from his stubble.

“Fuck,” I cry out. “I’m so close.”

He doesn’t come up for air. A man on a mission, he inhales my scent and ravages my pussy, as I climb higher and higher, ready to fall. With one last swipe of desperation, my legs tighten around his head and my orgasm shudders through me.

Jagger releases his hold on me, and I lay there listless and languid. Rising, he shucks off his pants in lightning speed. He grabs my thighs and rams his thick, hard cock inside of me. My body still jerking with mini spasms from my release, his raw and deep intrusion has me unexpectedly tumbling into an abyss of pleasure all over again.

“Fuck, your tight.”

His thrusts start off slow, but he picks up the pace quickly. I watch the chords in his neck strain with every push, and his eyes roll into the back of his head the deeper he goes.

The art of words is lost between us, a mixture of moans and grunts the only proof of animalistic pleasure. Digging the heels of my feet into his arse, I meet him stroke for stroke and let him fuck his demons out on me. His thumb finds my clit, and his eyes trail across my skin. Together, we chase the inevitable--forgetting about all the things before us, and not worrying about anything after. Tangled in pleasure, pain, and everything in between; he takes and I give. He gives and I take. I’m consumed by him. His touch, his kiss, his smile, and his tears. Jagger Michaels is everything I didn’t know I wanted.