Pleats?
Nope, that’s a growing pant bulge if ever I’ve seen one.
Which I haven’t until today.
Over me?
I half figure it is, but Logan Parker could have any girl he wants, surely it’s just a trick of the light.
But that light in his eyes is no trick and in seconds, he has his huge hand outstretched to mine, the instant electricity between us undeniable.
The flash of cameras and the sound of his step is all that fills the air for a few moments.
There’s a sudden hush as he takes my hand into his, holding it way too long before he hesitates, looking like he wants to bend down and kiss it, but begrudgingly thinking better of it.
“You’re Chrissy,” he says in a low, smoky tone, sending an instant shiver from the top of my head to the swollen heat of my mound.
I can only squeak, nodding my head in time with the low growl which escapes him. I even hear a few other females gasping, so I’m not imagining things.
The man is sex on legs, and I want his in between mine suddenly. The thought making me blush.
“This is Chrissy, Mr. Parker,” My dad says enthusiastically, offering his own hand again, which Logan ignores.
“I’m her dad, Charles Foster, from corporate accounts,” he adds his voice breaking, making somebody at the back snicker with laughter.
Then a flash of light as the moment is immortalized forever.
“I know who you are, Charles. Be a sport and deal with the media here, won’t you?” Logan says huskily, still not taking his eyes off mine, but hooking my arm under his and turning to make for the elevators.
“Our guest of honor has arrived!” Logan announces, sending a jolt of panic through my belly, making it quiver along with my legs, with every nerve ending in my body.
“Mr. Foster will answer any questions you might have,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, which he extends towards a waiting, private elevator that swishes open like a vault before I can even focus on my dad, the crowd, and those flashing cameras.
I try to lean harder into Logan’s arm, but he gently sets me to one side for now.
His hands palm up, motioning the media attention from him to me, and then back to my dad again before the door finally closes.
Chapter Two
DAY’S BEFORE
Logan
Father-daughter week?
A whole week of this? Jesus.
I cringe when I hear the idea, at our corporate think tank, those kiss ass meetings when everyone’s sucking so hard to try and keep their job let alone their bonuses.
A heap of files are thrust in front of me, as I stifle a yawn, glancing at the clock, watching the big hand until it says I can get the heck outta here.
Like a giant deck of cards, I split the pile and open the first one in front of me.
“These are all the corporate and long term staff with daughters, photos courtesy of their files, and some from social media,” Somebody comments, assuring me it’s in their contracts for us to access all this stuff.
But I can’t speak, I can’t say a word.
The file I open is Foster’s. I know him from some accounting floor, spoke to him just the other day about something… but it’s his daughter which has my dick shifting hard north in my three thousand dollar pants.
“Chrissy,” I practically moan, reading her short bio and scanning her sweet face, her chest and then digesting her thick hips and thighs with a dry gulp which I wet by swallowing hard, stabbing my finger at her photo before I let it hover a fraction over her.
Tracing her lines and etching them on my mind. Feeling something inside me awaken, something I’ve never felt before.
“Ugh!” The voice drones, it’s Campbell from PR. A complete fuck head, and not someone I want within two feet of me let alone my building, but he comes with the desired pedigree, apparently.
“Never mind her, Mr. Parker. I’m sure we can find someone more… suitable as a drawcard,” he clips, trying to take the file from me.
My hand slapping down on it, hard.
“She’s mine!” I hear myself growl, the whole room hushing in a second, all eyes on the fiend, Campbell.
Nobody would dare make eye contact with me after an outburst like that.
“She’s yours?” Campbell says, and without looking I can feel his brow going up, a limp hand on his hip as he smirks.
I hear somebody groan quietly, somebody else is making for the door.
Campbell swears under their breath.
“Problem?” I ask him, letting my burning eyes meet his, narrowing on them as I slice him to pieces with them.
“Uh… no, Mr. Parker… certainly not… we can work this anyway you-” he stammers before I cut him off.
“She’s my girl,” I announce again. “The face of Father-Daughter week at Logan Industries. Anyone else objects?” I ask, keeping my firm gaze on Campbell, watching a bead of sweat run down his flushed brow, stinging his eye.
“Then that’s settled, all the others who are here,” I continue, tapping the pile of folders, “send out invites to the parents and set it up.”
It only takes another steely look and they all scatter, finally leaving me alone, with her.
I hold her photo between my fingers, standing up and wince with a smile from the pain of fabric catching my rock hardness, a hardness I haven’t felt since…
I’ve never felt this way, not ever.
Her name is playing over and over in my mind, my new mantra and runs parallel to the thumping in my chest against my ribs. I feel dizzy but I can’t help but smile.
My fingers tremble, making her smile dance off the small glossy print.
Her straight blond hair splashes across her shoulders, white blouse that does her thick chest some justice, but it’s those baby blue eyes that have me… and those hips…
Hips that make me breathe through my mouth as I imagine my hands gripping them, hitching her white on white skirt above
