Falling for My Boyfriend's Dad
Falling for My Boyfriend’s Dad
~An Erotic Romance~
© 2016
By Cassandra Dee
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© 2016 Cassandra Dee
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all products of the author's imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters are represented as 18 or over.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Falling for My Boyfriend’s Dad
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EPILOGUE
Twin Stepbrother Secrets
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
EPILOGUE
RELATED BOOKS
DEDICATION
For everyone who’s ever loved someone they weren’t supposed to …
CHAPTER ONE
Alison
The front door shut and I put down my small bag.
“Wow,” I said softly, looking around, “nice place.” “Nice” was bland, a huge understatement given what I was looking at. Because the apartment we’d just stepped into was grand beyond my wildest imagination, with marble floors, a huge chandelier with sparkling lights, and even a fountain tinkling lightly in the foyer. But I didn’t want to seem overwhelmed, didn’t want to let on that I was a country girl in the big city, so I nodded and smiled again, keeping it simple. “Really nice.”
My boyfriend nodded dismissively, tossing his keys on a side table.
“Yeah, my dad can afford it,” Jonah snorted. “Since Robert sold his business last year, he’s basically rolling in it, he could burn money if he wanted,” he added, voice dripping with scorn.
I was silent, sensitive to my boyfriend’s tone. Having so much that you could burn sounded good to me, but maybe it’s because I’m from a poor background, so know what it’s like to scrimp and save, to not have enough sometimes. But I guess as someone who’s never had that experience, Jonah was different. He looked at wealth as just plain old money, and not something that you had to save, careful with every dollar.
But I didn’t want to get into it because we’ve only been dating two months, hardly soulmates yet. So I looked around hesitantly once more and asked quietly, “Will we be staying in the same room? Just let me know where to put my stuff.”
And Jonah let out another snort, his narrow chest rattling a bit.
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “Honestly, I don’t know what my dad has been up to since the divorce. But to keep things kosher, we might as well put our things in different bedrooms, it’s not like this place doesn’t have enough space.”
Because we’d been walking down a hall to the right, and it seemed there was an endless row of doors, Jonah throwing them open randomly. Oh right, this one had to be the master, with the huge dark bed inside and a giant TV. He shut that door one quickly. But further on down the hall was a guest bedroom with a medium-sized four poster decorated with a comfy white coverlet and Jonah nodded his head.
“Why don’t you take this one?” he grunted. “I think there’s a bathroom attached. You wanna get ready and meet me in about fifteen minutes?” he glanced at his watch quickly, “The party’s at Sarah’s place, should be rockin’.”
And I nodded quickly.
“Sure, but where will you be sleeping?”
Jonah shrugged, unconcerned.
“I’ll find another room, throw my stuff inside,” he said vaguely. “Just meet me in the kitchen in fifteen.”
And I nodded. It was weird that my boyfriend was being so elusive, but I was used to Jonah being an odd duck. Sometimes I wondered what he saw in me, his behavior was so strange, one moment hot, the next cold, all of it a mushy mess. But I wasn’t going to complain. The dorms had closed for the holidays, and I didn’t have a place to go. There was no way I could afford a plane ticket home, and a hotel room was even more out of the question. So I was grateful to be here, beyond relieved at my good luck.
Because I’m really fortunate to be at Hudson University. My family’s not poor actually, we’re fine, honest working class folk. It’s just that Hudson is a private school in New York City, something way beyond my family’s financial means, and it was a scholarship that made things possible. But still, there were no extras, I scrimped and saved to afford my books, and tried my hardest not to get caught up in the luxurious lifestyle of some of my classmates with their designer clothes and fancy laptops. But in the end, it didn’t matter. Because even though there wasn’t much growing up, money isn’t love and my parents doted on me, really lavished me with affection, making me feel warm and cherished, and I knew that my poverty was only a temporary state. With a good job after graduation, I could hopefully live a comfortable lifestyle once the paychecks started coming in.
But Jonah’s family was different. Although I didn’t know much about them, I did know that his parents had divorced just recently, and it made him prickly and odd. Or maybe he’d always been prickly, I’m not sure. But according to him, his dad had done the whole divorced guy thing after the papers were signed, buying this huge pad with all the amenities. There was a giant projector TV in the living room, priceless artwork decorating the walls, and shiny marble floors all throughout. It was a far cry from my family’s apartment growing up, what with my handmade art projects decorating the walls and my mom’s needlepoint that read, “Home is Where the Heart Is” in curvy script. But again, I wouldn’t trade it for the world, I’d had an idyllic childhood.
So yeah, Jonah and I are from different ends of the economic spectrum, but that’s okay because we’re students at the same college, and college is the great equalizer right? The day my acceptance letter arrived, both my parents had been emotional, knowing that the big, bright world had arrived on their daughter’s doorstep.
“Oh honey,” sobbed Trish. “This is so wonderful, you’re going to be a fancy college girl.”
“I’m so proud of you,” nodded Bob. “Hudson’s got so many resources, you’ll be able to find yourself a good job afterwards, become a profession
al.”
And I’d smiled at them.
“Mom, Dad, this is awesome,” I said slowly, “but I’m worried about you. The school’s all the way in New York City, and I don’t want to leave you guys out here alone, thousands of miles away.”
My mom and dad had both pshawed.
“No baby,” said my mom, shocked. “Of course you have to go, this is the opportunity of a lifetime,” she said firmly.
And my dad was just as adamant.
“Don’t let those city folk in New York scare you. You’re just as good as any of them, and besides we’ll be fine here. We were fine before you were born, Ally, and we’ll be fine again on our own,” he said with a wink. “We’re so proud of you honey, so proud.”
I nodded again, reminding myself that Trish and Bob had had lives before I came along, even if I could hardly imagine it. To me, they were just Mom and Dad, middle-aged people who loved bowling and bridge, with good jobs at the local factory, and a homey, welcoming air. It was hard to imagine them young once upon a time, but I guess it was true.
“We’re so proud,” said my mom again, beaming, “And just like Daddy says, enjoy yourself, don’t be scared of the great unknown.”
But little did they know how true their predictions were, because there are a lot of rich kids at Hudson. On move-in day, I’d hopped off the bus, struggling with my two suitcases, humping them up the hill to my dorm. My parents couldn’t afford the flight with me, but I’d assured them it was okay, I’d be fine. By contrast, there were other freshmen who’d pulled up in chauffeured black cars complete with a moving van, unloading cart after cart of things, TV’s, laptops, matching sets of furniture, it was pretty crazy since we all had tiny dorm rooms. But somehow they made it fit, cramming everything in.
And I’d met Jonah that first day, one of the aforementioned rich kids. He’d shown up with three movers, directing them as they carried things inside.
“That goes there, that one there,” he’d directed imperiously. “My clothes are in that box, careful.”
And I’d watched for a minute, astonished. Jonah was a good looking guy, quite handsome in fact, just small. Even though I’m hardly a tall person myself, he’s only about two inches bigger than me, making him undersize for a man. But you wouldn’t be able to that from the way he was so commanding, telling the movers what exactly went where.
“And my computer goes there,” he’d said, “No fool! Not there, there!”
I’d turned. Honestly, I wouldn’t have known where the computer went either, there were two desks in his room, both big enough for the giant flat-screen monitor he was losing his cool over. But maybe it was just me. I only had my little laptop that was bump-proof and bang-proof. Maybe if I had a giant plasma screen, I’d be just as sensitive.
So I cleared my throat slightly, hoping to get his attention.
“Hi, I’m Ally,” I said.
The boy couldn’t hear me over the racket, and besides he was too busy being the boss.
“No fool!” he scowled again. “That, there!”
I tried again, a little louder.
“Hi, I’m Ally,” I said again, making sure my voice rang out above the racket, the random thumping and crackling sounds of moving paper and furniture. “I live down the hall.”
And this time the boy swung around to look at me, his imperious expression melting away once he got a look at me. It was kind of embarrassing, but I’m used to it now. For most of my life I was a beanpole, a stick-thin toothpick with no curves, like a twig almost. But in the last six months, I’d filled out a lot and now I had curves to stop traffic, literally a car had almost run into a fire hydrant last week, the male driver staring at me with googly eyes, mouth open. And Jonah was no different. Upon getting a glimpse of my generous shape, he turned to face me, eyes appraising, running up and down, and then up and down again. My heart dropped. I didn’t like feeling like a piece of meat, but at the same time, I needed a favor, one that maybe he could provide.
“Um, hi, I’m Ally,” I started again. “Your new neighbor?”
And this time, he was all ears.
“Well, Ally, Ally, Ally,” he singsonged, rolling my name on his lips. Ugh, that didn’t sound good. “What major are you? Maybe we have some classes together.”
“Undecided,” I said quickly. “Or undeclared, is that how you say it?” And I blushed, cursing myself. God, I was already coming off like a country bumpkin within two hours of setting foot on campus. But I forced myself to keep going.
“I was wondering,” I began tentatively. “If I could borrow one of your movers? They’re renting mini-fridges downstairs and I need some help getting one up to my room.”
Jonah’s brow furrowed.
“A mini-fridge? Why would you want that? Aren’t those things like microwave-sized, practically useless? I’m bringing a junior size myself,” he boasted. And sure enough, a worker stumbled by, a huge white refrigerator strapped to his back, almost bent over double from the weight.
“Oh my god,” I gasped, running over to help. “You need a dolly for this, you can’t be carrying this by yourself, you’ll strain your back.
And the mover just nodded and huffed, so out of breath that he couldn’t answer. But his boss answered for him.
“Naw, no worries,” drawled Jonah. “Carlos is fine, he’ll be fine, I’ll give him a big tip after. But seriously, girlie, what do you need a mini-fridge for? They’re useless.”
I bit my lip. I didn’t want to tell him that I planned on making my own lunches and needed the mini-fridge to keep the ingredients cold. Sure, my scholarship to Hudson was generous, but even with the financial aid, we were only able to afford the minimum meal plan, which meant I could eat one meal a day at the dining hall. For my afternoon meal, I planned on putting together sandwiches, probably some cheese and bread and maybe cold cuts if my budget allowed. But that meant I needed a mini-fridge to store my stuff, even if it was only three cubic feet.
But that was too much information for day one, so I just gave the boy a sassy smile.
“Oh you know, for snacks and all,” I said breezily, pretending it was nothing. “I heard the food at the dining hall is terrible, you gotta have snacks on hand.”
And it was the right thing to say because Jonah nodded his curly brown head in agreement.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m bringing a refrigerator,” he grunted. “I would have brought a private chef, but there’s no place to cook and no place for Alfonso to stay, so fridge it is,” he said. “Come on, my guys are busy, I’ll help you bring it upstairs myself,” he said authoritatively, grabbing a blue hoodie.
And I nodded gratefully, trailing him downstairs to where the mini-refrigerators were stacked, fifty of them in a row.
“Thanks I really appreciate this,” I murmured as I signed my name on the payment slip. Inside, I was gulping. Fifty bucks per month for the rental? But I could save even more if I packed my lunch, so hopefully it would all net out. I swallowed heavily again and put on another smile, crouching slightly, arms extended. “Ready?” I asked, figuring we’d lift it together.
But Jonah wanted to prove his masculinity.
“I got it, don’t worry,” he bragged, and bent at the knees to pick up the refrigerator. It was true, the thing wasn’t bigger than an armful, but Jonah has a thin frame and pretty scrawny arms. The boy labored and strained, face growing red as I watched, the box not moving an inch.
“Oof!” he grunted. “Umph!”
I was so embarrassed for him that I ran over and lifted one side, both of us managing to hoist it awkwardly between this.
“You okay?” I said tentatively. Honestly, this thing was frickin’ heavy and maybe a dolly would be better.
“Of course!” he wheezed, although I could literally see his biceps trembling from the strain. “Won’t be a problem at all, we just need to walk smoothly, we’ll get it up three flight of stairs no prob.”
But I had my doubts because my own arms were beginning to tremble as well
, and I thought I might drop the thing on my toe, making me a cripple on my first day. So I opened my mouth to say something, to avert disaster, when a man stepped in, taking the weight off our arms, lifting the fridge like it was nothing more than a ball of fluff.
“Got it,” the man rumbled. “You guys go first.”
I gaped at him. The stranger was devastatingly handsome, the most gorgeous male I’d ever seen in my eighteen years. Tall, broad with rippling biceps and a wide chest, he threw me a wink before turning again to Jonah.
“Like I said, son, you go ahead, I’ll follow with this pretty girl,” he rumbled smoothly.
And my mouth dropped open. This man was Jonah’s dad? What the hell? He was so fit, so gorgeous, so strong, nothing like my middle-aged parents. But it was true because Jonah scowled.
“Thanks Robert,” he said sarcastically, turning away. “For nothing,” he muttered under his breath.
But Robert heard everything, rolling his eyes at the sky.
“After you, pretty lady,” he said to me, winking once again as Jonah huffed off. And upon closer look, I could see that the man was older than I thought. A few strands of grey decorated his temples, and those deep blue eyes had crinkles at the corner. Other than that though, he had the body of a god, powerful, ripped, those strong arms shown off by a casual blue tee, long legs encased in jeans.
“Um, thanks,” I murmured, ducking my head. “I’m on the third floor, just a couple doors down from Jonah.”
And the big man nodded again.
“Third floor it is,” he rumbled, eyebrows raised. And we made our way back to the dorm, past Jonah’s room to my place, humbly decorated with just a bed, a desk, and a couple of my personal items. Like I said, I arrived at Hudson with my worldly possessions crammed into two suitcases, so I didn’t have a lamp or any decorations really, just my mom’s needlepoint that I’d hung on the wall, looking a little limp and sad in my bare room.