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“Quiet, baby,” he said, spreading me wider. “Don’t want anyone knowing how sweet you sound.” I moaned his name with my thighs shaking, his mouth between them, my world breaking apart under his tongue 😫🔥. Tobias didn’t just make me come—he made me feel. Owned. Worshipped. Corrupted. I was supposed to be innocent. Instead, I was naked in his bed, marked by his hands, and addicted to the man who should’ve stayed off-limits 💋🥵. Now every time I close my eyes, I still feel him inside me. And it’s not just a memory… it’s a consequence growing in my belly 😳❤️‍🔥. Chapter 1 [POV Ava] I'm fucked. And not in a fun way—though God knows it's been months since that happened. No, I'm fucked in the ‘sitting across from my best friend's dad pretending I'm not mentally undressing him’ way. Which is approximately seven thousand times worse. The cursor on my laptop screen blinks at me like an accusation as I pretend to review the final paragraph of my youth program proposal. Across the conference table, Tobias adjusts his reading glasses and marks something on a budget report. I almost hate myself for noticing the exact way afternoon light catches the silver threading through his dark hair at the temples. "The grant committee's going to love this." He taps my proposal with his expensive pen, and I track the movement like a cat watching a laser pointer. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing forearms that have absolutely no business looking that good on a forty-four-year-old city councilman. "Especially this section on youth mentorship." "Thanks, Mr. Murphy." I force my eyes back to my laptop screen where the cursor blinks at me judgmentally. My voice comes out steady, professional. I've gotten good at that. "Tobias," he corrects automatically, then grins and glances up. "Come on, Ava. You're twenty-one now. You can't keep calling me Mr. Murphy like you're still that nervous seventeen-year-old who used to blush every time I asked about your classes." I still blush, you unfairly beautiful silver fox. I've just gotten better at hiding it. "Old habits," I manage, proud when my voice doesn't crack. "Speaking of twenty-one..." He sets down his pen, giving me his full attention. "Chloe's driving me insane with party prep. Apparently my music taste has been deemed 'aggressively millennial' and I'm banned from the playlist." "After last year's Bon Jovi marathon?" I find myself relaxing into our usual banter, the safe zone where I can pretend this is normal. "Can't imagine why." His laugh fills the conference room, easy and genuine, and warm hazel eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. "That was a classic rock education!" he protests, leaning back in his chair. "But fine, I'll stick to my designated role as grill master and leave the playlist to you kids." "We're not kids anymore." The words hang between us like a challenge I didn't mean to issue. Something flickers across his face—there and gone so fast I might have imagined it. "No," he agrees quietly. "You're not." The moment stretches between us, heavy with something I refuse to name, until Jordan from accounting ruins everything by poking his head in. "Sorry, but the mayor's office needs—" "On my way." Tobias stands, gathering his papers with practiced efficiency, then pauses beside my chair. His hand lands on my shoulder, a brief, friendly squeeze that shouldn't make my skin burn through my blouse. "You should head out too, Ava." His voice drops just enough to make me squeeze my thighs together under the table. "You deserve time to get ready for tonight. Twenty-one only happens once." He winks, a small, casual gesture that absolutely shouldn't make my heart race. And then he's gone, leaving me staring at my laptop screen. The drive home is fifteen minutes of pure masochism. I keep replaying that moment—we're not kids anymore—and the way his eyes went dark. Just for a second. I clearly need to stop romanticizing my best friend's dad. But that's the thing about inappropriate crushes—they don't respond to logic. Trust me, I've tried. Five years of this ridiculous, shameful attraction that started when I was barely seventeen, standing in the Murphy kitchen while his daughter Chloe searched for snacks. Tobias had come home from a late city council meeting, looking tired and disheveled and stupidly attractive. He'd asked about my college plans with genuine interest, and I'd forgotten how to breathe properly for the entire conversation. Dating Chloe’s twin brother Tyler was supposed to fix this. It was supposed to redirect these inappropriate feelings toward someone acceptable, someone my own age. Yet, it just gave me more excuses to be around his father, more opportunities to torture myself with proximity to something I could never have. I stood in front of my closet in my underwear, holding up dress options when my phone buzzed on the bed. Tyler's name flashes on the screen. Tyler: Hey babe, about tonight… My stomach sinks as I read the start of his text. Me: Don't tell me you're canceling. Tyler: Not canceling! Just might be a little late. Work emergency in Riverside. Me: Tyler, it's my birthday party. You promised you'd help set it up. Tyler: I know, baby, I know. I'll try to wrap things up and make it by evening. You understand, right? New job, I have to make a good impression. I understand. I always understand. That's what I do—make excuses, smooth things over, pretend disappointment doesn't taste bitter. Me: Sure. Just try to make it. I'm staring at my phone like it holds the secrets of the universe when my door starts vibrating from aggressive knocking. "Open up, birthday girl!" Chloe's voice carries through the wood. "We have a party to get to!" I throw on my robe and let her in. When she takes one look at my phone, her face darkens and Chloe breezes past me carrying a bottle of wine. "Please tell me my worthless brother isn't bailing." "He's not bailing. Just running late. Work stuff." "Work stuff," Chloe repeats flatly, already opening the wine, not bothering with glasses, just taking a swig and passing it to me. "Right. Like the 'work stuff' that made him miss your internship celebration? Or the 'work stuff' during your mom's birthday dinner?" "Chloe…" "No, seriously, Ava. I don't get it. I don't get what you see in him." She flops onto my bed, sending throw pillows tumbling. "He takes you for granted, shows up when it's convenient for him, and you just... accept it." I take a long pull from the wine bottle. "It's fine." "Ava, sweetheart, love of my life, it's not fine. God, I hate that I introduced you two. I thought, stupidly, that dating you might make him less of a dickhead. That you'd be good for him. Instead, he's just... wasting you." "Relationships require compromise," I say weakly, turning back to my closet. "Compromise implies both people are trying. When was the last time Tyler compromised for you?" She doesn't wait for an answer we both know I don't have. "You're too good for him, Ava. You always have been." "Can we not do this tonight?" I pull out a sundress. "Is this too casual?" "You're deflecting, but fine." Chloe sits up, studying me with those sharp hazel eyes she inherited from her father. "You know what you need? To forget my idiot brother exists for one night and actually have fun. Dance until your feet hurt. Drink too much champagne. Flirt with someone who actually appreciates you." "Chloe!" "Dad's already setting everything up," she continues, and something in my chest tightens. "He asked specifically what kind of cake you wanted. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting, right? He made sure the bakery got it perfect. Called them twice." The image of Tobias calling a bakery about my cake preference shouldn't make me feel warm and weightless, but it does. God, I'm pathetic. "That was thoughtful of him…" I manage. "That's Dad. He actually pays attention when people talk." Chloe's pulling dresses from my closet. "Wear the blue one. It makes your eyes look amazing." So I did and an hour later, Chloe navigated her car through the familiar streets leading to the Murphy estate. The house comes into view—stone and glass and sprawling green lawn, everything my cramped childhood apartment wasn't. This place has always felt like something from a magazine, all gracious spaces and generational stability. "Home sweet home," Chloe announces, pulling into the curved driveway. I spot him immediately. Tobias stands on the deck, stringing fairy lights along the pergola, laughing at something the neighbor Mr. Chen is saying. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, his usually perfect hair slightly mussed from the work, and he looks relaxed in a way he rarely does during campaign season. The late afternoon sun catches him at just the right angle, and I have to look away. He glances up as we get out of the car, and his whole face transforms. The professional mask he wears at the office disappears, replaced by something warm and genuine that makes my chest ache. "There's the birthday girl!" He sets down the lights and jogs over, arms already opening. The hug is friendly, appropriate, exactly the kind of embrace you'd give your daughter's best friend. But his hand lingers just a moment at my waist, and I swear he inhales near my hair before stepping back. The scent of his cologne, something manly and expensive, clings to me even after he lets go. I tell myself I'm imagining it. I tell myself I'm projecting. But I keep repeating this moment in my head anyways. Chapter 2 The bass from Chloe's carefully curated playlist thrums through my chest as I stand at the edge of the pool deck, watching my friends dance under the string lights. The Murphy estate has transformed into something magical—fairy lights reflecting off the water, candles flickering on every surface, the warm evening air thick with laughter and perfume. I paste on my birthday girl smile when Sarah stumbles over, already tipsy and glowing. "Twenty-one! Oh my God, how does it feel to be legal?" she squeals, throwing her arms around me in a champagne-scented hug. "Like twenty but with alcohol," I laugh, genuinely this time. Sarah's enthusiasm is infectious, even when my mood is somewhere in the gutter. "This party is amazing! The Murphys really went all out. And oh my God, the catering? I've had like six of those little salmon things." She spins around, nearly tripping over her own feet. "Where's Tyler?" The fake smile feels like it's gluing itself to my face. "Work emergency. He'll be here soon." "Ugh, work on a Friday night? That sucks. But at least you get to party without him breathing down your neck, right?" Sarah winks and bounces away toward the pool, already distracted by someone doing a backflip off the diving board. I watch her go, envying her ability to find joy in salmon appetizers and strangers' pool tricks. I need air, space, maybe some of those fancy crackers. The kitchen should be quieter—I can regroup there, figure out what I want to say to Tyler when he finally decides to grace us with his presence. The Murphy kitchen is a study in expensive minimalism and also blessedly empty. I lean against the central island, letting the cool marble seep through my dress, and pull out my phone again. Maybe I should just call him. Demand an actual explanation instead of these bullshit texts about traffic. But first, I should probably grab more champagne flutes from the high cabinet. Chloe mentioned earlier that we were running low, and doing something useful might stop my hands from shaking with barely contained frustration. I drag over one of the kitchen chairs and climb up carefully. My dress is shorter than I'd normally choose, the blue silk riding up my thighs as I stretch toward the top shelf where the good crystal lives. "Come on," I mutter, fingertips barely grazing the stem of one glass. "Just a little—" "Careful there." The voice I know too well comes from directly behind me, deep and warm and entirely too close. I startle and feel the chair wobble beneath me as I'm about to fall backward, a sharp gasp escaping as gravity takes over. Then Tobias's hands are on me. One grips my waist, while the other—oh, sweet Jesus—accidentally cups my breast as he steadies me against his chest. His palm fits against me perfectly through the thin silk, and every nerve ending I possess lights up like the Fourth of July. Time stopped and neither of us dared to move. My back molded against his solid frame, every inch of him pressed against me. His hand was warm, almost hot through the thin fabric of my dress, and I could feel my body responding instantly—nipples hardening, heat pooling low in my belly. His breath hitched audibly, fanning across my neck, and when his thumb moved slightly, just a fraction, against the side of my breast, I couldn't suppress the small sound that escaped me. "Ava." My name came out rough, almost pained. "Tobias…" I breathed, and watched his jaw clench at the sound of his name. "We should…" he started, but Chloe's voice carried from the hallway, getting closer. "Dad, have you seen the bottle opener?" We exploded apart and Tobias stepped back so quickly he hit the counter, his breathing ragged. I gripped the edge of the table, legs shaking, my entire body on fire from his touch. "I'll get those glasses," he said, voice rough like gravel. "You should... the party..." "Right." I could barely speak. "The party." I fled the kitchen on unsteady legs, my skin still burning everywhere he'd touched me, the wetness between my thighs making me squeeze them together as I walked. Behind me, I heard him curse softly, followed by the sound of running water like he was splashing his face. But I'm already practically running back toward the pool where the music and laughter can drown out the sound of my hammering heart. What the hell just happened? I grab another glass of champagne and try to pretend my world hasn't just shifted on its axis. Sarah waves at me from the pool, and I wave back, hoping I look more normal than I feel. The alcohol makes everything feel liquid and dangerous, and I'm hyperaware of Tobias moving through the crowd. Every time he passes near me, my body reacts—skin flushing, breath catching. When he hands someone a drink, I remember how those fingers felt against me. When he laughs at someone's joke, I think about the desperate sound he made in the kitchen. He's trying to avoid me, I can tell, but our eyes keep finding each other across the crowd, and each time they do, heat flares between us like a live wire. "You're doing it again," Chloe says, appearing at my elbow. "Doing what?" I take a large sip of champagne, trying to cool the fire in my veins. "Staring at my dad." "I'm not. I was just… He's being really nice, hosting all this." The words tumble out too fast. "That's Dad. He loves you and treats you as a part of our family." Chloe links her arm through mine. "Though honestly, sometimes I think he likes you better than me." Family. The word makes me want to laugh hysterically. Family members don't touch each other the way he touched me. They don't look at each other with barely controlled hunger across a crowded pool deck. "Are you okay?" Chloe peers at my flushed face. "You look... I don't know, feverish." "Just the champagne," I lie. My phone buzzes. Finally, it’s Tyler again. Tyler: Running later than expected. Start the cake without me? Love you, babe. Across the pool deck, Tobias is chatting with Jordan from his campaign team, but his eyes find mine. He raises his glass slightly, a small, private gesture meant just for me, and mouths "happy birthday." The smile that accompanies it isn't his public smile—it's something softer, more intimate. My heart stumbles in my chest and I look away too quickly, nearly spilling my champagne making Chloe laugh. "Okay, you're officially cut off. Come on, let's dance." She drags me toward the makeshift dance floor, and I let the music wash over me, trying to drown out thoughts of Tobias's hands on my body, the way he looked at me in the kitchen, the way he's looking at me now when he thinks no one's watching. That's when Sarah appears, phone clutched in her hand, face twisted with uncomfortable excitement. "Ava, sweetie, I need to show you something." Her voice cuts through the music and laughter. "I'm so fucking sorry, but you need to see this before someone else tells you." The screen shows Instagram, perhaps a story posted by someone from Tyler's office twenty minutes ago. There he is, clear as fucking day, at some dive bar in Riverside. The timestamp reads an hour ago. And he's not alone. Megan Fischer is pressed against his side, his arm possessive around her waist, her glossy lips attached to his neck like she owns him. Like she has every right to be there. "Swipe," Sarah whispers, her face full of pity. I do. The next story is from Megan herself—Tyler taking a shot off her flat stomach while she arches beneath him like some porn star before kissing her dirty. The caption reads "work emergency" with a string of fire emojis. "There's more," Sarah says quietly. "Everyone's posted. The whole office saw. I'm so sorry, Ava…" My hand starts to shake. Three years. Three years of making excuses, of understanding, of being the supportive girlfriend while he… "Ava?" Chloe appears, taking in my face. "What's happening?" Sarah shows her the phone and Chloe's expression transforms from confusion to pure rage. "That fucking piece of shit! I'm going to kill him! I'm going to cut off his pathetic dick and feed it to him!" The champagne glass slips from my numb fingers and hits the deck, exploding into glittering fragments. The crash cuts through the music and several people turn to stare. The party seems to pause. Everyone looking at me standing there in my pretty blue dress, surrounded by broken glass, my carefully constructed world shattering just as spectacularly. "I..." My voice cracks. "I need a minute." But there's nowhere to run at my own birthday party, nowhere to hide from the pity already filling my friends' faces as they check their phones and see what everyone apparently knew before me. Tyler chose tonight, my twenty-first birthday, to publicly humiliate me. She thinks it’s just a harmless crush… until the man she wants is the one who should never touch her—read His Daughter’s Best Friend now ❤️‍🔥