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2: Clement.

My fist pounds the steering wheel at the sight of Dasha climbing out the window, oxygen seeming to fill my lungs for the first time since she left the hospital. She’s beautiful beyond words, with her white-blonde hair and big, green eyes, moving with grace and innocence, especially in the simple nightshirt she wears. I didn’t want the aunt to take her—she belongs with me—but I had no choice. People tend to frown on a forty-year-old confirmed bachelor moving an eighteen-year-old girl into his house.

Hell, they should frown on it. I shouldn’t be dreaming of my hands slowly parting her knees and kissing her pretty pink underwear top to bottom while she squirms. She’s been through a trauma, for the love of God. Lost her father. I have no right wanting to take a dead man’s place as Dasha’s provider…and more.

A lot more.

I married young and divorced just as fast. My ex-wife didn’t want to be dominated…and hell, I was only half interested in dominating her. Since then, my only relationship h
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