Intense chemistry 

Isadora's POV 

"Are you okay? Your face is red all over," Clair said, nudging me on the shoulder.  

I just eye-banged your father, I almost said. I clamped the words down, pressing my lips in a thin line.  

"Nothing,”

Claire narrowed her eyes in suspicion. My eyes darted around, wondering what gave me away. She couldn't possibly have figured out that I saw her Dad and- "If you're faking being sick to get out of this party, it won't work, Isa."

My shoulders dropped, and I gave a nervous laugh, holding my hands up. "Busted?" 

"Totally busted, girl," Claire laughed and tugged me down the hallway. She stopped before a large set of doors, though pushed the door open and yelled. "Dad, we're going out!" 

I froze. My breathing grew heavy, and I tried hard to break free from her grip. What if he told his daughter that I had shamelessly stared at him in his home gym? This was so embarrassing! 

There was no response, but I couldn't sigh in relief just yet. Claire yanked me into her father's room, just a few steps in. The woody scent I had gotten a whiff of filled my nose, and my body trembled. 

Even his room smelled good; however, the interior was a bit too dull, with all the wood furniture, black and grey walls, and the cold feeling it gave. The sound of the sower running filled my ears, and my head began imagining things.  

He was in the shower. Naked. Water poured over that sexy body of his.  

Good lord.

 I had seen Claire's dad a few times on TV. He always had a suit on and looked like the billionaire he was known to be. Who knew under all those clothes that there was a sex god? I wanted to gush about him with someone else. But Claire was my only friend... And his daughter.  

I might as well swallow my thoughts and never speak of them.  

"Dad, I know you can hear me!" Claire screeched, pouting her lips. 

The shower stopped running, and I gulped.  

Was he... Was he coming out? 

"You can go, honey," 

My knees buckled at the sound of his voice. I felt every tremor and vibration in that low, deep, raspy voice. 

Honey.   

He was talking to Claire, and yet my body pulsed and jerked at the word; my breasts rose and fell. I tried to take in deep gulps of air to keep my body from heating up.  

It didn't work.  

"Seriously, Dad? You're not going to say hi to my friend?" 

Tristan remained silent. But the shower didn't come on. I could almost hear him breathing.  

Almost.  

"Claire, come on, I don't..." I trailed off when she glared at me.  

"Dad, come on!" Claire whined, stomping her feet. There was more silence until Claire grumbled. "Fine, be that way. I'm going to have sex at this party, by the way. And so will Isa. Right, Isa?" 

"Uh... Uhm... Yeah?" I replied, unsure of what to say.   

What was going on? 

Claire pulled me out of Mr Kavanuagh's room and marched towards the narrow hallway that led to the front door, grumbling. I could barely think over the image of Tristan's body replaying in my head and those green eyes.  

The pool party was fun, I guess. I didn’t have as much of a good time as Claire had hoped, and it bummed her. It didn’t help that the guys reminded me of Josh. The slim college guy build, the dirty jokes, the blonde hair, and lazy blue eyes. It felt like I was just being reminded of all the things going wrong in my life over and over. 

“I should never have taken you to the stupid parity,” Claire hiccupped when we finally returned to her father’s mansion. It was night already, but thankfully, the mansion was well-lit. She was dead drunk on her feet and stumbled every single step she took out of the car while the chauffeur who had driven us kept a straight face.

“Can you help her to the mansion, please?” I asked, and he shook his head. 

“Mr Kavanaugh would have my head if I do,”

“Oh, leave thuh drivuh uhlone,” Claire slurred. Flailing her hands in the air. “I can totally walk home, see?” 

She took a few steps and fell splat on her ass. “Well, the ground isn’t cooperating,” 

“Of course,” I chuckled, walking over to help her up. “It is totally the ground’s fault.”

I hung her arm around my shoulders and slowly helped her to the front door. “Why can’t the driver help you in?”

“Because my Dad’s a beast,” She groaned, and I resisted the urge to sigh. 

He is a beast, alright. A tall, fine specimen of a beast. 

 “You didn’t have fun, did you?” She sniffed, her voice low despite the way she slurred her words together. She looked at me sadly. “I know you didn't. I’m sorry, I took you to that party-”.”

“You were only trying to help, Claire,” I smiled. 

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Not this party. That party.”

My spine stiffened. The memories came rushing in. I quickened my steps towards the front door, but Claire kept speaking. 

“If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have-”

“Claire, it’s fine,” I interrupted, but she was in a little world of her own. I looked up at the door and felt the world spin around me. 

“Caught Josh with his dick down-”

“Claire,”

“Down Stacey’s throat. Damn, she is such a bitch. Fucking a friend’s man? That’s a bitch move.” 

I couldn’t reply. I was barely listening to Claire. The front door was opened, and her father was standing in the narrow hallway in all his glory. He had a shirt on this time, but I still found myself tongue-tied, staring at him like a deer in headlights. 

He had a frown on his face, the same frown he always had on TV. I took in his beautiful features–strands of his beautiful raven black hair hung over his face, framing his haughty green eyes and that beautiful chiselled jaw. 

Claire continued to ramble on about my cheating ex, exposing my life and past before her father while I prayed for the ground to open wide and swallow me. 

“Oh, hi, Dad,” Claire giggled. “Fancy seeing you he…” She trailed off, and her head dropped. I stared in disbelief. Asleep? Was she asleep?

He stepped aside and held out a large, calloused hand. “I’ll take her, you can go,” 

I blinked in disbelief. Of all the times I had seen Tristan Kavanaugh, he was as grumpy as ever. Whenever Claire tried to engage him in conversations, he would respond with grunts and clicks like some caveman, yet I could see his love for Claire in how his eyes moved over her limp body with worry.  

I wished Dad was like this.  

If my father was any ounce as caring as he was, perhaps… Perhaps what? 

“O-Okay,” I whispered, red-faced and stepped in. I blinked back the tears that threatened to surface. Now wasn't the place or the time.  

My body hummed with awareness when I moved near, pushing Claire off my shoulders to hand her over. His fingers brushed mine, and I sucked in a breath at the jolt that travelled down my spine and straight to my thighs. I watched him pick up Claire and then tip his head to stare at me. 

“Oh, uhm,” I chuckled. “I’ll be off to my room,”

If I can ever find it. 

Walking past him was torture. I was aware of everything—how incredibly tall and huge he was—how the muscles in his forearms bunched when he adjusted Claire over his shoulders—how my hands brushed his side, and for a split second, I felt him move. 

His free hand came up to hold my shoulder. I gasped, throwing my head up to look at him. Forest green eyes held mine, and my breath was knocked out of me. 

“Mr Kavanaugh,” I whispered in surprise, unable to ignore the way his touch set my whole body on fire. My nipples pushed desperately against my swimsuit, and my pussy throbbed when his fingers brushed my skin as he lifted his hands. 

I wanted those fingers brushing my skin elsewhere.  

God, No! What was wrong with me?

“What is your name?” He asked gruffly, boring holes through my skin with his intense gaze. 

I licked my lips instinctively, and his eyes darkened further. 

“Uh.. Isadora, sir,” I mumbled. 

“Isadora,” He repeated, and my body blazed. My name rolled off his tongue so smoothly it sounded like a prayer. And without a word more, he brushed past me again and disappeared into the mansion, leaving me wet, throbbing and aching with his voice calling my name over and over in my head. 

Isadora. Isadora, Honey.