I wasn’t sure what shit I’d done in my life to be put in this kind of hell, yet there I was. Trying to remain unaffected while Eve—my best friend’s daughter and the object of every wet dream I’d had for the past year—walked around in a tiny white dress that barely covered her ass, her legs on full display and her tits pouring out of the neckline.

I’d managed nearly a year without setting foot in this backyard, but Eve’s graduation party was something no amount of excuses would permit me to miss. It wasn’t like I could say to my best friend, “Hey, man, sorry I can’t come. I’m afraid I’ll spend the whole time picturing ways to fuck your daughter.”

Turned out that fear wasn’t unfounded. I was sure if I got close enough to her, I’d be able to see the outline of her nipples through the material of her minuscule dress, because God hated me. Said dress was reminiscent of the nearly nonexistent bikini that had turned everything to shit in the first place. So much so that I’d think she was doing it on purpose if not for the looks she kept shooting the shithead currently panting at her side like a goddamn puppy.

As I watched the two of them together, it took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to storm over and crush his windpipe with my bare hands. The last time I’d see him had been when I’d stopped them for public indecency. I’d never forget the kick to the gut I got when I’d shone the flashlight through the fogged-up window into the back seat of that little shit’s car and seen Eve readjusting her clothes, her cheeks flushed pink, her lips bright red and swollen, her nipples hard enough to cut glass.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, taking a long pull from my beer, wishing it were whiskey instead. Hell, I’d take any hard liquor at this point—I wasn’t picky. Not if I had half a hope of getting through Eve’s graduation party with my sanity intact.

“Nate, glad you could make it,” Brandon said, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

The rock in my gut solidified as I turned to look at my smiling best friend. He’d been the only person in my life ever to stick around, and how did I repay him? By lusting after his barely legal daughter. Some fucking friend I was.

Swallowing down the bile in my throat, I said, “Hey, man. Nice party.”

The backyard was full of more than a hundred people, fancy shit hanging from the trees and Tiki torches placed throughout his spacious yard. A taco bar and a s’mores station were set up by the outdoor kitchen, and a handful of teenagers tossed beach balls around in the in-ground pool. My only saving grace was that Eve wasn’t one of them. There was no fucking way I’d be able to handle seeing her in that bikini again.

Brandon rolled his eyes and smiled in Eve’s direction. “Yeah, she didn’t want me to make a big deal about it, but I didn’t want the day to pass without a celebration. I mean, top ten percent of her class, Nate? My girl’s a genius. It’s costing me a small fortune, but when it makes her do that”—he gestured to Eve, whose head was thrown back in laughter, her dark hair falling past her ass and her fingers curled around the forearm of Shithead—“I’ll give her whatever she wants.”

“Never have been able to say no to her,” I said.

He just shrugged. Not much he could say to dispute it. Not when I’d been the one by his side for most of the past thirteen years as he’d raised her by himself after her mom split.

“Have you stopped by to say hi to her yet? She was excited you could get the day off work. She’s missed you.”

Forget a rock—there was a fucking mountain range in my stomach, the jagged tips ripping through my insides. I was an asshole. A disgusting, perverted asshole who didn’t deserve these people in my life. Eve had already lost her mother, and because I was a sick fucker who couldn’t get a hold of his lust, she had to suffer.

“Nah, she’s having fun with her friends. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, getting Eve’s attention. Once she looked toward her dad, Brandon tilted his head in my direction. The smile that spread across her face hit me with the force of a hurricane. She was genuinely happy to see me, and I’d been spending the past year making any excuse I could to avoid being in her presence.

I watched with smug satisfaction as she left Shithead behind to run toward us, her tits bouncing and barely contained in the low neckline of her dress. Jesus. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying my damnedest to get my shit under control.

“Nathan!”

I snapped my eyes open a split second before her body collided with mine, her vanilla and apple scent surrounding me, immediately turning my cock to steel. My arm automatically went around her to catch her while I shifted my hips enough so she couldn’t feel exactly what she was doing to me, just by breathing.

“I’m so glad you came,” she said, her head resting on my shoulder as she wrapped her arms around me, her feet dangling above the ground.

I held her with one arm, all my concentration focused on two things—not letting her feel my fucking hard-on and not crushing this beer bottle in my fist. After a few seconds, I set her down, stepping back and offering her what was probably more of a grimace than a smile. “Congratulations. Sorry I missed your birthday party last month. I had to work a double.”

“Yeah, Dad told me.” She fingered the edge of her short as hell dress, and I forced myself not to stare at those silky-smooth legs I wanted nothing more than to feel wrapped around my waist. “You could’ve stopped by another time. I haven’t really seen you in almost a year.”

Except that wasn’t true, and the blush on her cheeks proved she was thinking exactly what I was. The last time I’d seen her had been in the back seat of a brand-new car that cost more than I made in a year. She darted her eyes to her dad then back to me, the nervousness written clearly on her face.

Before I could reply, the blond shithead strolled up to her, throwing an arm around her shoulder and bringing her into his side. “Hey, babe.”

She didn’t even glance his way, just kept her eyes on me. My cock twitched in my jeans.

“Nate, have you met Brock?” Brandon asked. “He and Evie have been seeing each other for a few months. He’s Clark’s kid.”

Brock. He even had the name of a shithead. And his parents were assholes. Rich, entitled assholes. Clark Wilkinson might be Brandon’s partner, but he was a Grade A douchebag. Despite being bred and groomed in that lifestyle, Brandon had never fit that mold, not in all the years I’d known him. And because of that, neither did Eve. But even with his shortcomings, Brock was better suited for her than I ever would be.

And I hated it.

Narrowing my eyes, I said, “Yeah, I think I’ve seen him around town once or twice. You drive a brand-new Lexus, don’t you?”

Shithead looked at me then, and I had the pleasure of watching the color drain from his face. It was clear he hadn’t recognized me before, and now he was sweating bullets, no doubt praying I wouldn’t out him to his girlfriend’s father about the time he fucked her in the backseat of his car.

I ground my molars together, my jaw ticking with the effort to keep myself in check. Thirteen years ago, I took an oath to serve and protect, and in all that time, my oath had never been tested like it was right now. I wanted to strangle the pretentious little prick with his necktie that probably cost more than my first car, just because of the way he’d been looking at Eve. Like he knew her—knew what her lips tasted like, knew what her smooth skin felt like under his hands, knew the sounds she made when she came. Knew what it was like to be inside all that soft, wet heaven.

Fuck.

“I’m gonna grab another,” I said, holding up my empty beer bottle and ducking away.

Just before I went through the back door into the house, I paused and looked over my shoulder at the three of them, if only to remind myself I didn’t belong. Not here at this party. Not in this crowd. And certainly not with my best friend’s eighteen-year-old daughter.

They were right where I’d left them, Brandon and Shithead talking about something and laughing like old friends, but Eve wasn’t joining in.

Instead, she was staring right at me.

* * *