Her Best Friend's Father Craves Her Too

The late afternoon sun hung low over the sprawling backyard of Lauren’s family estate, casting golden ripples across the infinity pool that seemed to spill endlessly toward the distant hills. Mia stretched out on a lounge chair, the skimpy red bikini she’d packed specifically for this long weekend clinging to her curves like a second skin. At eighteen, fresh into her first year of college, she still couldn’t believe how freely her best friend Lauren lived—luxury without apology, a stepfather who spoiled her rotten, and a house that felt more like a private resort than a home. David had been in the picture since Lauren was twelve, stepping in after the divorce, and for the past six years Mia had watched him from the edges of birthday parties and holiday dinners with a secret, growing ache between her legs.

He was forty-two now, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair silvering just enough at the temples to make him look expensive. Right now he stood at the outdoor bar mixing drinks, bare chest still glistening from his earlier swim, board shorts hanging low on lean hips. Mia caught herself staring at the trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband and forced her eyes back to the condensation beading on her glass.

“You’re doing it again,” Lauren whispered from the chair beside her, voice low and amused. She wore a white micro-bikini that left almost nothing to the imagination, her long blonde hair piled messily on her head. “Eye-fucking my stepdad like he’s the last piece of cake at the buffet.”

Mia’s cheeks flushed hot. “Shut up. I’m not—”

“You are. And he’s looking right back.” Lauren’s grin was wicked. She raised her voice just enough. “Dad, Mia thinks your margaritas are the best she’s ever had. Tell her how you make them so strong.”

David glanced over, ice clinking in the shaker. His eyes lingered on Mia’s bare stomach, then the swell of her breasts barely contained by the red triangles. A slow smile curved his mouth. “Secret’s in the tequila ratio and a little extra lime. Gotta keep the college girls happy when they visit.” His gaze dropped openly to her thighs as she shifted. “That suit looks good on you, Mia. Better than good. You’re growing up dangerous.”

The compliment landed like a hand sliding between her legs. Heat bloomed low in her belly. She took a long sip of the fresh drink he brought over, the salt and citrus sharp on her tongue, and felt the alcohol loosen something already fraying. Lauren watched them both with bright, knowing eyes, toes trailing lazily in the water.