Falling For Dad’s College Rival by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Four

Trent

Dean Chambers has left me high and dry after an effusive greeting, more interested in entertaining his overseas guests, which is fine by me.

I’ve sat through my share of winning and dining potential investors.

The event so far is as much as I expected, a ton of people I don’t recognize anymore, and the ones I do look like they’d rather see me in a casket than at a reunion.

I wasn’t always the nicest guy on campus, but I knew what I wanted and did what I had to do to get it.

It’s early on in the piece, but enough for me to realize this is maybe the best time to leave.

Before it even starts.

It looks like Wheatley’s a no show anyhow, no big surprise—

Turning to make my way out, I stop dead in my tracks. I spy Mike Wheatley, but it’s who he has on his arm that makes me swallow hard. My mouth suddenly dry.

I barely notice him disappearing into the men’s room in a hurry.

He never did have a strong stomach for this kind of thing.

At a glance, I could say the woman on his arm must be a paid date of some kind. No way a guy like Mike Wheatley is gonna have a girl like that on his arm by her own choosing.

But no.

I can see she’s way too clever for that, even at the highest end of the scale. Not that I’d know.

Plus she must be half his age. But I do notice a lot of people are half my age nowadays.

What strikes me most is her eyes.

Wide with something like wonder, but also a thrilled look of relief once her eyes meet mine. I can’t help but start to undress her with my eyes.

I never knew I had a ‘type’ before. I don’t.

I mean, I didn’t. Until now.

Without another thought, before I can even question what’s happening, all I know is she’s mine.

She’s the reason I came here tonight, the whole reason for everything.

She’s wearing a simple black dress, but it highlights her smooth, powder soft skin.

Simple yes, but she’s still the most beautiful girl in the room by far.

Her blond hair’s been styled into large soft waves on one side and her big blue eyes light up her round face. Feels like they light up the whole room.

Her large chest is rising and falling quickly, but I can see her thick, pebbled nipples through the fabric, which sees me letting out a low rumbling sound.

A deep, animal growl as I start to make my way over to her. It feels like too many people are too close to her all of a sudden like I should be the only one here with her.

Just her and me.

Nobody seems to really notice, but I make my way over to her as quickly as I can, but making sure I have plenty of time to take in her sweet body and those eyes a little longer.

Before I reach her, I stop for a moment, almost wanting to signal her with my finger, for her to turn around slowly for me.

I could look at her all day and all night, and I’m already hooked.

I want to see more. Those thick hips and thighs she seems to be pressing together are begging to be pried apart.

One hand on her side, the other cupping that chest. I’m easily imagining this girl lifting those legs over my shoulders as I lay her back.

The thought of my face between her legs is enough to make me growl again, and despite the crowded room, I can feel something pulsing to life.

A sensation I haven’t felt in a long, long time.

I hope she sees it.

I hope she can see my fat dick growing harder for her. Hope she can see what she’s doing to me.

First things first. I need to introduce myself, and then I need to get her away from here as quickly as possible.

A treasure like this, just roaming around and waiting to be plucked?

No, no, no. I won’t have it.

She’s mine and I want to take my present home, get to know her some before I unwrap her.

I’m trying to act suave, casual. But my tongue’s stuck to the roof of my mouth and I can feel my jaw clamped so tight I must look like a lunatic.

My eyes are sinking into hers, slowly moving away just long enough to take in more of her as I approach.

I watch my hand moving to take hers, bending low to bring it to my lips.

She smells like the sweetest thing on earth, and her hand in mine sends a jolt of electricity through my heart and straight down to my aching groin.

Pressing my lips tenderly on the back of her hand, I look up, introducing myself.

“And who might you be?” I hear a deep voice, smoky with desire asking her, taking me a full second to realize it’s my own voice.

I’m actually speaking to her.

She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing.

Just an ‘O’ shape with her sweet lips. Another hole I can see needs exploring with my own mouth, but for now, I just want a name. A word to describe this feeling, a reason to explain all this.

I’m about to ask if the cat’s got her tongue, when it occurs to me I might be making a fool of myself.

She stammers and I try not to smile, noticing just how cute she is when she’s put on the spot.

“I’m—” she finally manages, flushing a deep red when a familiar voice fills me in, a voice that sees her snatching her hand back too.

“Brooke,” The voice snaps, and before I even look over I know it’s him.

I keep Brooke’s eyes fixed on mine, and reaching out for her hand again, I give it another tender kiss, feeling her whole body tremble under my touch.

“Well. I see you’ve met Mr. Latham,” Mike clips, trying not to snarl and avoiding my gaze when I finally turn to face him.

“Mike,” I say absently, deadpan. “Call me Trent,” I inform Brooke, ignoring her father and hooking my arm around her waist, ushering her towards the bar.

“Can I get you a mineral water, soda?” I ask, feeling like I need something myself if I’m gonna keep speaking.

“Brooke, I think we should mingle. There are a few other people I’d like you to meet,” Mike butts in, moving closer but not daring to lay a hand on me, and with a single glance, his hand retreats when he’s about to grab hold of Brook.

Brooke.

I say her name what feels like a thousand times in my mind in a single second.

It’s a sweet name, and one I look forward to saying over and over to maintain this feeling inside.

“You wanna mingle, Brooke?” I ask her, cocking my brow and then pursing my lips a little, giving a skeptical glance that also tells her I’d be wounded if she did with anyone but me.

“I’ll just grab us a drink, dad. You want something?” she asks Mike even though her body’s still sidled up to mine, but it’s my turn now to have trouble finding some words.

Dad?

Did she just say, ‘Dad’?

It’s only a moment’s hesitation, but Mike Wheatley sees his chance and he grabs it, literally.

In a split second, he’s got Brooke by the arm, telling her sharply in one ear that they can get their own damn drinks.

My Brooke.

Mine.

But… Dad?

By the time I recover from the shock, it’s too late to avoid making a scene if I try and play tug of war with the man for his daughter in a crowded room.

I knew he’d had a daughter, heard it years ago.

But there’s no way.

She looks nothing like him.

Snapping to attention, I realize what’s just happened, and daughter of his or not, there’s no way I’m letting Mike Wheatley just take Brooke away like that.

I only just met her.

Moving through the crowd, I watch them as they near the bar, reading his body language and her lips just fine from where I am, as well as if I was standing right beside them both.

He wants to leave already, but Brooke’s not having any of that.

I can see her eyes scanning the crowd, looking for me when our eyes finally lock again.

I shake my head a little and she smiles, stifling a giggle until I use my finger.

Not motioning for her to turn for me so I can see her better. No.

I use it slowly to motion her back to me, mouthing the words come here.