Page 24 of Off Limits
His shoulder stiffens underneath me. “Dani, baby, I don’t think this is such a great idea.” He places a hand under my shoulder, as if to lift me up.
“Why not?” I ask, sitting up and looking at him, only inches from his face. We’ve been snuggling like this on the couch all week, and I know I can fall back on that as a rationale for my behaviour if I have to. That we’ve normalized this.
He lowers his eyes, avoiding my gaze. “You’re getting a bit old for this, don’t you think?”
“No.” The champagne imbues me with a new sense of courage. “I…I like when we’re close. Don’t you?”
He sighs, looking troubled, and then relaxes his hand on my shoulder and kisses my temple. “Yes, sweetie,” he says with resignation. “I do.”
I nuzzle in closer and lay a hand across his stomach. It’s hard and flat. “Is that why you were jealous before? Of Kye? Because you like being close to me?” I stare at my hand as I speak, grateful he can’t see me blushing, and hopeful that he can’t feel my heart hammering against his body.
“Dani...” He sounds pained. “I shouldn’t have said that. That was so inappropriate.”
He takes a deep breath and, summoning even more courage, I lift my face to look at him. The eyes that look back at me aren’t Jean-Luc’s—not as I know him anyway. His dark brown eyes have an intensity I’ve never seen: Vulnerability, and desire… A look that maybe he’s given my mother before, but he’s never given me. And quickly, before I have time to talk myself out of it, I tilt my face up, lay my hand on his cheek, and kiss him.
I press my lips against his and hold them there for what feels like a second, a minute, an hour—I don’t know, but I don’t pull away. I trace my fingernails over his ear, behind his head, and then cup his head with my hand, letting him know I don’t want him to pull away. With my mouth against his, I breathe in the clean, warm smell of him. I feel the tactile pressure of his lips with acute sensitivity. The heat and the softness of them.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t pull back, and I part my lips slightly to take in a breath. That’s when I feel his hand come around my back, and the unthinkable happens.
He kisses me back.
Long, slow, and languorous, his mouth moves over mine until our lips part and I feel his tongue stroke into my mouth.
It’s crazy. It’s unthinkable. And it’s so sweet, I couldn’t pull away if I wanted to. He moves slowly, kissing me tenderly, but there’s an urgency in the firmness of his hand against my back and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. My body roars to life, heat spreading over my skin and rushing down between my legs.
With his other hand, he cups the back of my neck, threading fingers into my pinned up hair, and when I tilt my hips, intending to straddle his lap, he helps lift me. Melanie’s sheath dress rolls up my thighs as I place one on either side of Jean-Luc, so that I can feel his crotch through the thin layer of my panties and my legs are fully exposed. I’m wearing the last pair of Melanie’s panties that he has yet to confiscate—the pair I had on when he took away the others.
He runs his hands up my thighs and the touch of his palms against my skin feels electric.
“Dad,” I murmur without thinking, and immediately wish I’d thought of any other word to say. But Jean-Luc doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Dani,” he murmurs back, covering my mouth with kisses and squeezing the tops of my thighs. “Oh, sweetheart.” He pulls me down against him and the growing need between my legs makes me arch my back and roll my hips until I’m pressing my crotch against him, and he’s hard—my stepfather is hard—and soon I’m breathless as the friction arouses me.
“Careful, little girl,” he warns. He lifts his hands to my upper arms and in one swift motion has me up off his lap and on my back on the couch. His face hovering over mine is lit up and lustful, a smile playing in his eyes. “You’re going to make me lose control.”
With one hand, he grabs the top of Melanie’s strapless sheath dress and pulls it down, exposing my breasts, and a shock of arousal goes through me. I want this. I want him to see me. But it’s still new and overwhelming.
“Fuck, Dani,” he says under his breath, staring at my chest as if he wasn’t expecting this. “Fuck.” With slow reverence, he palms a breast, massaging the weight of it, and then rubs his thumb over my nipple. It pebbles under his touch.
He raises his eyes at me, looking pained and speechless. His mouth falls open. And with a sharp exhale, he leans back, up and away from me, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back down at me and pulling my dress back up over my breasts.
“Dani.” When he says it this time, it’s different than it was before. Less desperate and amazed. This time it’s solemn and resolute. He sits up and lifts my legs by the ankles, dropping them on the floor so I’m forced to sit up. Then he scrubs his face with his hands.
“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs into his hands. “I’m sorry.”
He stands up and picks the champagne glasses up off the coffee table before walking away. Mine is still half full. From the kitchen he says, “You should probably go to bed, sweetheart.”
“Dad!” I plead. “Jean-Luc…”
“Now, Dani.” He looks at me with a heavy, pained look on his face. “Please just go to your room.”
“No!” It can’t end like this. I don’t know what happened. Was it me? Did I do something wrong?
“Just go to your fucking room.” He raises his voice. He sounds tense and agitated. “Now please.”
I get off the couch quickly and close the distance to the staircase, suddenly eager to get away.
“You did it, too!” I cry out as I run up the stairs. It’s the only thing I can think of to say, and it feels real and true. “You did it, too!”