“You’re Frank’s daughter, for Christ’s sake. What is wrong with me?”
“Nothing, Mo. Really.” I moved in front of him. I tried to press my hands on his chest, but he jumped back.
“I shouldn’t have done that, Brooke. Jesus. Are you okay?”
“Look at me, Mo.” I waited until his eyes were looking at me. “I wanted that. I want more than that with you. Let me—” I reached out to cup his dick.
He stepped back. “This was a mistake.” His eyes looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Brooke. It’s just…wrong.” With a shake of his head, he hurried from the room. A few minutes later, I heard the door shut.
I sighed and sat down on the couch, picking up my wine. Was I disappointed? A little bit. At the same time, I was happy. Now I knew for sure that Mo found me attractive. He’d wanted to fuck me. Yes, his conscience stopped him, but I felt certain that someday, I’d show him that I was a woman who wanted to love him as he deserved to be loved. Hadn’t my father said it? That Mo deserved a good woman like me?
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