Chapter Four 233

Chapter Four

Dominic

She’s so tiny in my arms. Pomegranate and honey are fresh in her shiny dark brown hair as if she’s recently washed it. There’s a hint of sex that makes my stomach roll. I run my fingers through her locks, smoothing the tangles before pulling her tighter against my chest. Her sobs are silent, the shaking of her shoulders the only sign she’s crying. The sound breaks something in me. My hard exterior could only break for her—my little girl. She pulls back so I can see her face. Her body isn’t shaking because she’s crying. It’s because she’s… laughing? I’m unsure why she’s laughing, but I chalk it up to people processing emotions differently.

“Look, baby girl. I’m not mad at you. Okay? I just don’t want to see you hurt.” She nods slowly at my words, her eyes not giving away her emotions. “Now go shower,” I order, letting her go.

I let her go even though I don’t want to. I didn’t want to let her go when I went away. I want to hold her in my arms and wish the ten years in prison never happened. As she strides away, I realize she’s wearing one of my old T-shirts. The threadbare material does nothing to hide those curves. A reminder that she’s no longer my little girl. She’s a grown woman. Her lean, sculpted legs are bare, and I must refrain from following her with my eyes. If I do, I know I’ll see more than I should. When I opened the door to her room, I had no idea it was my baby girl I was wishing was bouncing on my cock.

With my back to her, she calls out, “I’m glad you’re home.” Before the click of the door sounds, I’m already hating myself for thinking immoral thoughts about my daughter.

***

I check on Meredith, who’s still sleeping soundly on her side. We need to talk in the morning when she wakes. How could she have let things get this bad? Years ago, I knew something was wrong when she stopped coming to see me or answering my calls. I thought maybe she’d moved on and found someone else. We were so happy together before, and it hurt when her visits grew further and further apart until I could no longer remember the last time she came. I told her I hadn’t wanted Swayze to see me that way… behind plexiglass and wearing orange. We agreed on this scheme together. I thought we were strong enough to see this plan through. I had no idea she’d turned to drugs, of all things. She turned to the exact thing that put me behind bars… the thing she claimed to hate. That alone makes me want to break shit. I close the door to her bedroom as the water in the bathroom shuts off .

The hallway is too narrow for more than one person, so I meander to the living room and clean off the couch. Red Solo cups are everywhere, and liquor is spilled on the carpet. How many parties have been held here in my absence? Thankfully, the cushions made it out unscathed.

Steam billows from the bathroom as the door opens, and Zair-Bear steps out wrapped in a piece of cloth I’d barely call a towel. It’s so thin I can see the gap in her thighs. That scrap makes the prison-issued towels look like they belong in a ritzy spa. What the fuck!

“I’m sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up before I go to bed,” Swayze informs me, letting her hair cover half of her face, still dripping water from the shower.

“Wait til morning. We’ll clean it together,” I assure her, taking my place on the couch.

She lifts her head, pink lips pursed in contemplation. “I work at the diner in the morning.”

Work? I lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees.

“How much do you work?” I ask, curiosity tickling the back of my mind. Same as seeing them in this trailer and not in a quaint little place.

She scoffs as if my question is absurd. “A lot. ”

A lot.

She shouldn’t have to work at all. I missed so fucking much. I release a heavy sigh, hoping to lessen the confusion and annoyance. Archie sent more than enough money. That was a part of our deal. I went away for ten years, and he cared for them financially because I couldn’t. So where did that cash go? It’s not hard to guess, considering how Mer was passed out and the white dust I noticed on her nightstand when I put her unconscious body to bed.

“I’ll take care of the cleaning, Zair-Bear. When you come home tomorrow, we’ll figure everything out.” I clench my back molars, reveling in the shock of pain. Fuck! I never wanted this for her. For any of us. This isn’t the life she’s supposed to have.

Swayze shuffles toward me with the low scrape of the carpet under her bare feet being the only noise besides our breathing. “Okay,” she whispers before kissing the top of my head. She lingers between my spread thighs with her chest in my face. It takes everything in me not to grab her by the waist and bury myself in her scent. God, I’ve missed her. But the woman in front of me isn’t the same person I walked away from all those years ago. Am I that hard up for pussy that my brain thinks my daughter’s is an option ?

I dig my fingers into my knees and bark out a gruff “Night.” Then I watch as she scurries to her room.

Tendrils of water linger on my arm from her curly wet hair, and I gently rub my hand over the droplets. A war between right and wrong rages inside me. My morals are being tested, and I need to get a grip. If Mer had been strong for us, my homecoming would’ve played out much differently. I stretch out on the couch, placing my hands behind my head. I close my eyes, trying to block out the detritus littering the rundown trailer, along with the never-ending playlist of things I could’ve done differently.

Things need to change around here.

The heat from a typical Maine summer’s day is reluctant to leave and gives way to the relief of the night’s reprieve. The sounds from the farmland surrounding the trailer are far different than the constant buzz of all things associated with a prison. Crickets chirp beyond the thin walls of the trailer, but they don’t lull me to sleep like I’d hoped they would. Instead, what plays behind my eyelids is shameful. Images of Swayze moving her hips on top of that boy infiltrate my mind. When I walked into that room, I had no idea it was her. The predatory gleam in her eyes as she stared at me with hunger was an experience I hadn’t had in years. The pure lust in those eyes swallowed me whole and made my body vibrate with desire. She’s definitely not a little girl anymore.

My cock hardens in my jeans to the point it’s painfully pressing against my zipper. Not seeing a woman for years and only being around hairy asses and sweaty balls does something to a man. But that’s no excuse for me thinking of my daughter rolling her hips— Fuck! Stop! —I have to think of something else. Death. The smell of gunpowder. Cold, hard metal in my hand. My daughter’s supple tit in her hand, pulling on her tight nipple.

NO!

Peeling flesh from muscle. The sound of a man’s screams as he dies. A moan of ecstasy from the pouty lips of my daughter while she’s… Fucking hell!

I slam my hands down on my jean-clad thighs, giving myself a reality smack. Knock it the fuck off, you fucking perv! I groan, bringing my palms up to my face and digging them into my eyelids in an attempt to rub the images from my brain. It doesn’t help in the slightest. The memory of seeing her completely bare runs rampant in my mind, and my dick throbs in response.

Everything is so fucked. I’m so fucked.