I stare out my window and right into Brock’s. His curtains are open, but he’s not home yet. I’m eager to hang out with him before Daddy gets home tonight. Things are getting more serious lately.

Well…they were.

Shame ripples through me as I remember how turned on I was yesterday watching Brock’s father lying on the pool lounger, drinking his beer. He’s like the older, sexier, more muscled version of my boyfriend. I’d been drooling over him all afternoon. And when he swam straight for me, I’d been thrilled. His eyes are always on me, but he never acts on the heat burning in his steel-blue gaze. Not that he’d want someone like me. Little Rowan Wheeler, the virgin neighbor who’s still a daddy’s girl.

I’ve seen the women Eric brings home. Tall, leggy, gorgeous, fake. He loves them dripping in shiny jewelry and wearing very little clothes. In comparison, I’m nothing. It’s strange to me that he seems to always be staring my way. Could someone like him want to be with someone like me?

The thought brings guilt. My boyfriend is Brock. We haven’t had sex yet, but I know it’s coming. We’re working up to it. Today, I plan on giving him his first blow job. Well, I hope it’s his first. He told me it was. It’s certainly my first blow job. It may be my birthday, but I want to give this to him.

It will erase some of the guilt.

Remind me I’m with Brock and not Eric.

Still, I can’t help but think about the shock of having his finger inside me. I think it was an accident, but his gaze was positively wolfish. Promising. Like he wanted to do more when people weren’t around. Thankfully, he never got the chance. Brock walked me home, and I didn’t see any more of Eric Pearson.

I abandon the window on a hunt for something sexy to wear. If I’m going to give my first blow job, I want to look hot doing it. I peel off my T-shirt and rummage around in my closet for something that will hug my curves. I settle for a white halter-top dress. Once I yank it from the hanger, I walk out of the closet and toss it on the bed. I pull off my bra since it doesn’t go with the dress and stand in the middle of my room in nothing but my lacy pink panties.

My core throbs, and I wonder if Brock will go down on me again. Last weekend, when his dad was away on a trip with his friend and my dad was on business, I stayed over. Brock and I slept naked together. We didn’t have sex, but we got close. He licked at my clit until I almost came. I was on the edge and hadn’t quite leapt off when Hayden busted us.

More shame burns through me.

Last summer, before Hayden went off to college, we all got really drunk on Eric’s liquor. Hayden pulled me onto his lap once his brothers passed out and kissed me dizzy. We made out for hours. I was silly enough to think he’d ask me out or something, but the next day, he acted like nothing happened. Not long after that, he went to college and I started dating Brock.

Thoughts of all the Pearson men have me feeling flushed. Absently, I reach down and run my fingers over my clit through my panties. It feels good. I imagine it’s Brock’s fingers, but my fantasy turns dirty quickly. Brock morphs into Eric. Soft touches become rough ones. Sweet words become biting ones.

“Mmmm,” I whimper.

Steel-blue eyes pinning me. A hard, stone-like body pressed against my chest. Full lips kissing mine.

My orgasm is close, but still so far away. With a frustrated groan, I give up and throw on my dress. Once it’s knotted behind my neck, I look at my reflection. I can’t say I’m displeased. According to my dad, I look just like my mother. I never knew her since she died having me. She had silky brown hair like mine and chocolate-colored eyes. I haven’t seen many pictures because it upsets him to keep them out, but I know I have her pouty lips too.

I hear the door open and close downstairs. My hopes of seeing Brock are dashed knowing my father is here. Since it’s my birthday, he’ll want to take me to dinner or something. With a huff, I push my dark brown hair behind my ears and look around my room. When my eyes land on Daddy’s newest gift, I suppress a shudder.

I’m eighteen, not eight.

Of course I told him I loved it, but secretly, I’d been horrified. Daddy built me a dollhouse. It’s chest high and made from real wood. On one side, it looks exactly like the front of our house, even down to the gray shutters. On the other side, it’s open and gives a bird’s eye view into an exact replica of our house. Even the Barbie’s room is pink like mine. Frilly and pink and over the top. I don’t have the heart to tell him I’ll be going to college in a few short months. I’ll live in a dorm and trade in all this girly shit for the college life.

But he’s been both parents to me. He’s a cool dad and gives me freedom. However, he’s still a parent in the sense that he makes me eat right and makes sure I’m taking care of myself. School is important to him and my grades can’t be anything less than stellar.

“My little girl is growing up,” he says from my doorway, pride in his voice.

I turn to look at my dad. Jax Wheeler. He’s not much older than Eric and has a similar physique. I’d always thought men were supposed to get flabby and gross with age, yet all the men I know have only gotten better. It makes me hope my dad will find him a nice woman to settle down with. He’s always so lonely, and it breaks my heart. Seeing that he owns a pharmaceutical company and runs every day at five in the morning to keep in shape, he should have women falling at his feet. I seriously don’t get it.

“Hey,” I say with a smile.

He walks into the room, opens his arms for a hug, and I walk into his embrace. When I start to pull away, I notice a drop of blood on his shirt.

“Did you hurt yourself?” I ask, pointing to the spot.

His smile falls as he inspects it. “Yeah, shaving.”

I open my mouth to ask him where the cut is when he gives me a sheepish smile.

“Rowan, how mad at me would you be if I rescheduled your birthday dinner?”

At this, I laugh. “Depends on the reason.”

He rubs at the back of his neck and shrugs. “I met this woman recently…”

“You have a date!” I screech, a huge smile on my face.

“Something like that.” He smirks at me.

“Go!” I say with a giggle. “And take a shower. You stink.”

He chuckles. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“I know you will.”

His gaze flits over to the dollhouse, and he beams with pride. Just another reason why I’d never say a thing about it. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t know how to raise a girl. He’s tried his best, and I love him for that.

While Daddy gets ready, I wait impatiently by the window. Brock finally comes home, waving at me from his window, and I wave back. The moment my father leaves, I all but run next door.

Nixon answers immediately after I knock. He may only be sixteen, but he’s just as tall and buff as Brock. Unlike his older brothers, he’s yet to develop the sexy smirk they seem to share with their father. I stand on my toes to ruffle his hair, then bounce through the house on a mission to find Brock. Once inside his room, I shut the door and begin tugging at the knot on my dress. Brock’s hungry gaze roves over me as the dress falls to the floor beside the bed.

“Wow,” he says in awe. “So pretty.”

I smile as I do my best to walk seductively toward him. Based on the way his cock tents his basketball shorts, I’d say he’s definitely aroused. He sits up and hangs his legs off the side of the bed and I come to stand between them.

“Happy birthday,” he says with a panty-melting grin.

I lean forward and kiss his mouth. “What did you get me?”

Panic flashes in his eyes. Quickly, he schools it away. “I got you me.”

I laugh until I realize he’s not joking. “Oh.” Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them back and smile at him.

“You could ride my cock,” he offers, his gaze hooded.

A pang of nervousness flits through me. Suddenly, I don’t feel so ready for sex. Distracting him, I fall to my knees and rub his dick through his shorts. “I could suck your cock instead.”

“Fuck yes,” he grunts, lifting his hips to assist me in pulling his shorts off. I slide them down his thighs and grip his dick in my hand.

“I’m not sure what to do,” I whisper.

He strokes my hair and smiles. “Put your lips on it. Maybe use your tongue. You’ll figure it out.”

I swallow down my unease. My thoughts keep going to this summer. He’ll turn eighteen too, but he always gives me the runaround when I talk about college. It’s almost as if…

He wouldn’t break up with me, would he?

“Do you think our dorms will be close?” I ask, my tongue teasing his salty tip.

A hiss escapes him, but he avoids my stare. “Maybe.”

Frowning, I sit back slightly. “Brock, what’s going to happen to us?”

Anger flashes in his eyes and his jaw clenches. “Are we seriously discussing this with my dick in your mouth?”

His tone stings me. My instinct is to crawl away and grab for my dress. I’m about to when there’s a knock. Before I can move, his bedroom door swings open and someone growls. Like an animal. And holy hell, does it drop a match and set my soul on fire.