Fuck, I wish I could capture the look on his face right now. Half way between shock and amusement, his honey brown eyes are trying so hard to stay focused on my face. Little does he know I already caught him staring for two seconds too long at my tits and the shitty excuse of material I call a skirt.

He stands with his hands in his pockets, looking relaxed and nonchalant, but the veins travelling up his forearms give away the tension coiled throughout his body. It’s obvious he’s determined to appear unaffected by my presence. An eighteen year old with a foul mouth and a knack for making people feel uncomfortable is clearly not what he signed up for. Truth is, I don’t want to be here anymore than he wants me here. I’m here because I have no choice.

Growing up with my mom was messy. Switching up boyfriends with every season, her unsuccessful quest for true love turned me off the idea of relationships forever. While she spent years on end letting herself be manipulated by every man she let into her bed; I learned a few lessons of my own, and realized she was everything I didn’t want to be.

Guys always think with their dick first. It’s their biggest flaw and it’s my greatest advantage. And standing here with ‘Mr. Authority’ is no different. Knowing he will try to live out his dead friend’s requests and provide a home for me, I plan on pushing all the right buttons and getting the fuck out of here.

Stepping even closer, I lick my lips while I stare at his. His breathing comes to a halt as I invade his personal space. Instinctively my body reacts to his presence. Shivers racing up and down my spine, goosebumps erupting all over my skin. I finally meet his gaze and the flicker of desire in his eyes lets me know he feels it too. His eyes roam down my face, past my lips and settle on my tits. My breathing quickens and my nipples harden underneath his glare. I have to keep reminding myself that no matter how attractive he is, this is a game. I need him to be putty in my hands. Get him right where I want him and then run.

“Well, are you?” I whisper.

The sound of my voice and my breath fanning his face snaps him out of his hypnotic trance. He steps back, putting a significant distance between us. Rubbing his hands down his face, he growls through his frustration. “Am I what?”

I arch my back, and stick my breasts out. Nipples on full display, I’m ready to work my best assets. “Don’t you want me to call you Daddy?” I pout.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he turns around; giving me his back.

“Can you just stop talking for a minute and follow me inside?” He snaps.

I bite back the natural urge to have the last say and quietly follow him and all his charm into the house. Wearing a navy blue tee and well worn jeans; on the surface he looks almost exactly how I pictured. But with the majority of his arms exposed, his fists clenching with each step, and swirls of ink decorating his skin, I know there’s nothing predictable about this man. Every move he makes accentuates his muscles deliciously. His body is the epitome of strength and virility. Teasing me, luring me in. Imagining all the ways he can throw me over his shoulders and show off the sculpted alpha male look that he wears so well. Shit, Mr. Temperamental is hot.

I struggle to work out what he and my father had in common, or why he would even agree to taking me in, but I also know I can’t get caught up in the details. Details slow you down. They mean you’re attached, that you care, and I don’t.

Walking through the doorway is like stepping into an alternate universe. I expected a live-in bar; a living room full of beer bottles, a seventy-five-inch flat screen TV mounted on the wall and a stench of alcohol and tobacco to be imbedded in the carpet. But this is a home. Spacious and luxurious, the house is full of modern furniture and sleek appliances. The living room opens into the kitchen where a glass window stretches against the length of the house; showcasing the only reason I’m excited to be living here. A pool. Before my mind has time to catch up, my body is already walking toward the picture perfect sight in front of me. I’m dreaming of how nice it could be to sit in the sun; reading and swimming whenever I want to. I’m a city girl; I bleed bright lights, loud noises and crowded places. I live for the hustle and bustle. But here I can see how easy it is to fall in love with the laid-back lifestyle.

The noise of someone clearing their throat behind me snaps me out of my daze, and the reality of where I am and why I’m here hits me straight in the gut. Preparing myself to turn around I take a deep breath and put my game face on. Stick to the plan, Ivy.

The look on my face must show my confusion, as I notice him holding my bags in his hands.

“I got them from the car while you were...” he nods his head to the window, letting me know he watched me be enamored by the view.

The mood in the room has shifted. It’s a lot more calmer and I don’t like it.

“Thanks Daddy,” I say with a smirk. Just like I wanted, the tension in his body returns at the mention of his new nickname.

“Your room is upstairs. First door on the left. I’m going to put your bags up there and we can talk when you’re settled in.” he states.

A brain snap has me walking ahead of him and leading the way up the stairs. I hear him mutter something under his breath, and I know we’re back on track. This skirt hides nothing, so with every sway of my ass, I’m one step closer to getting him right where I need him to be.

Pushing the door open, my eyes are blinded by pink walls. Abruptly, I stop in the doorway and a lump of man walks straight into me. I feel his erection against the top of my ass, and I push back into him.

“While I’m all up for a little bit of wood action, we need to discuss the My Little Pony party that’s going on in this room.” I turn to him, because his facial expressions have quickly become a new addiction. “Or did you and all your Floridian friends have a pink Disney princess party and forget to clean up?”

He drops my bags, the thud making the floor vibrate. Walking me backwards he pushes me into the room until my back hits a wall. Hands grip my chin and our eyes bore into one another, anger and lust dancing around like flames in his eyes.

“My name’s Brock,” he says through clenched teeth. “You can call me Brock. And only Brock”

Releasing my chin, he walks backward and holds my stare.

“Oh, and Princess, this party is all for you.”

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