Chapter Four

David

I have no idea what came over me in the diner. I just realized that I wanted to be around Tara as much as possible, and I guess that meant asking her to come stay with me. After we stopped at her place to get some of her essentials, we drove back to my house.

I could have cut the tension in the car with a knife. The pure need I am feeling for her has only grown with the more time we are spending together.

This is so wrong… but there is nothing I can do to stop it. I will have her.

The thought keeps ringing in my head as I show Tara to the guest room right beside mine. I watch her look around the room, her face lit up with genuine excitement. There's something about her now, an allure that makes it difficult for me to reconcile the image of her as a girl to the stunning woman standing before me. She's not only matured physically but also psychologically. I enjoy talking to her and watching the little animated gestures that she makes.

"It's so beautiful here," she says, turning to me with a bright smile. The smile I would do anything for.

"I'm glad you like it," I say, clearing my throat lightly. She continues wandering around the room and before I know it, I am behind her as she peers into the large walk-in closet. She turns around, right into me, with a gasp, nearly falling in the process. I save her from falling, grabbing her by the waist to keep her upright. She looks up at me, her cheeks turning the prettiest shade of pink.

"S-sorry, I didn't realize you were right behind me," she says, letting out a nervous giggle that immediately heightens my desire for her. I need to get out of here.

"I should probably leave so you can get settled in. You had a long day today and you must be tired. Don't hesitate to grab me if you need anything."

"Okay," she murmurs, nodding shyly. I turn around to leave the room and I'm almost at the door when her voice stops me.

"David?"

I turn my body around slightly to look at her. "Hmm?"

"Thank you," she says softly, an adorable blush staining her cheeks. "For… everything."

"You're welcome," I say simply, walking out of the room before I can give in to the temptation to linger.

Back in my room, I lie on my bed and drape my arm over my eyes, letting my mind replay the events of the day. I can hear Tara moving around in her room and I wonder if there's any sense in putting her in a room that's so close to mine. But then again, I'm responsible for her well-being and I need to be as close to her as possible in case she needs me. Right?

A few minutes later, I hear the sound of the running water and I immediately picture her under the shower, the water streaming down her naked body. The image rises in my head, unbidden, causing blood to rush straight to my cock.

I snicker lightly in disbelief. I can't believe I'm getting hard just from imagining a woman in the shower. In my thirty-eight years, I've been around countless gorgeous women, more than a few naked, yet none of them has ever gotten me this excited. Recently, I've grown bored and tired of meaningless sexual encounters, so I have completely stayed away from women, even when they willingly offered themselves to me. Yet, it only took having Tara in my home for less than an hour to get my blood boiling with lust and my cock raging like an untamed animal.

I wonder what it'd be like to stroke into her from behind, our breaths ragged, mingled with the water cascading down our joined bodies…

I need something else to do. I cannot be fantasizing about my best friend's daughter like this.

With that in mind, I retire to my study which is a couple of rooms down the hallway from Tara's. Not far enough to keep my sanity, but it'll do for now.

I bury myself in work, forcing my mind away from all thoughts of Tara. As I'm scrolling through the news clips of the day, I find a piece disparaging me and my company, insinuating that I'm just another billionaire trying to make profits off of green energy with no regard for people's welfare. The content of the article is purely malicious, ignoring all the hard work we've done to clean up the world and create functional, reusable fuel and instead suggesting there are alternative motives behind our clean energy initiatives.

I usually don't mind propaganda like this, but I find myself fuming at this particular one. It's not enough that they try to bash my efforts at every turn, now they're trying to ridicule the intention behind the company's operations. If anything, they should be writing an article about the protest at the warehouse site today, owned by a car manufacturer notorious for its refusal to adhere to green energy standards. It makes no sense why this article would go out of its way to ignore MicroBot's contributions to the environment.

It's especially upsetting considering my and Harry's goal was never to get wealthy, it was to create sustainable solutions for our future. Yet, these so-called journalists have the audacity to belittle our sacrifices and twist our noble goals into something sinister. It's infuriating to see our efforts misrepresented in such a blatant manner.

I scroll down to the bottom of the article to check the agency that published the article. The DailySpark. I frown slightly, remembering one of their journalists, Selina Adams, has published several disparaging articles about us in the past—all with no credible allegations. I let them slide in the past, but my irritation multiplies at this discovery, and I make a mental note to discuss it with my PR team and consider our options for responding to this attack on the company's integrity.

Just as I am beginning a note to Fiona to remind me to speak with PR in the morning, I hear Tara scream my name. I jump out of my chair and rush out of the study. Several horrible scenarios flash in my head as I sprint down the hallway, and all of them involve her being hurt and helpless.

I push open the door to the guest room without bothering to knock. "Tara? Are you okay?" I call out loudly, looking in the direction of the bathroom.

The door opens slowly, and she peeks out with a timid smile. "I'm sorry to disturb you but there's no towel in here, can you bring me one, please?"

I stare at her, momentarily stunned speechless at the sight of her shimmering wet hair plastered to her face and creamy bare shoulders. Suddenly I feel like someone cut off my source of oxygen and I can't breathe or think or do anything other than stare. Desire floods my whole being, hard and raw. It drives me crazy to think that she's naked and all wet behind that half-open door.

I wonder what it'd be like to run my mouth over her creamy skin, licking my way down her throat, to her perfectly rounded tits; a gentle nip here, a lick there while my hands explore the gorgeous contours of her body. I wonder what it'd feel like to pleasure her with my fingers until my name falls from her lips…

"David?"

"Hm?" I mutter, struggling to gather my thoughts.

"I asked if I could have a towel… please?" She adds, a soft blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Oh, yeah, I'll get you one right away," I mutter before turning on my heels and walking away as fast as my legs can carry me. Outside the room, I lean against the door, muttering a soft curse under my breath as I glance down at the bulge in my pants. I try to calm down as I head into my room to grab her a towel, I need to have some control before seeing her, wet and glistening again.

Once I have a handle on myself, I head back to her bathroom, three towels in hand so she's stocked up, and so I don't have to torture myself by seeing her half naked again. I hand her the towels through the cracked door, and she thanks me with a "You're the best!"

If only she knew…