I'm fucked the minute I take a good long look. It instantly pops up and starts straining in my pants, giving me the mad desire to carry her outta the dining room, find a quiet spot to throw her on the floor, and bury my face between those perfect fucking globes while I piston between her legs.
“Claire!” Amanda jumps up again, beaming. “I'm so glad everybody's finally in the same place. Sit, sit. The food's nice and hot.”
Nothing like a hot breakfast to smooth things over. I stack my plate high with pancakes, sausage, and extra scrambled eggs, watching Claire sitting across from me. She gingerly picks a few pieces of cantaloupe and slaps them onto her plate before she finally meets my eyes.
Brave girl. Sexy girl. Woman I can't resist.
“You always eat like a bird, or is it just the summer heat?” I stuff a bite into my mouth and point my fork at her.
“I'm still getting over my stomach trouble yesterday. Just having something light.”
“Ty.” Dad's evil eye twitches.
“He's right, honey,” Amanda cuts in. “You really should have a little protein. I imagine you know a thing or two about eating healthy, Tyler.”
“Ty. We don't do that Tyler shit around here.” I tell her, soon as she looks at me. “Yeah, I try to keep it lean and healthy when I'm training. Other days, a guy's gotta eat. It's the best season for it, after all. Love my protein.”
“Training?” Claire speaks her first word of the day to me, cautious and questioning. “What do you play?”
“I'm into this underground MMA shit. Nothing like getting up close and personal with some psycho fighter to test your strength. It's good for this body and great for my charity. My club hosts matches sometimes, with most of the proceeds going to a good causes.”
“Good causes,” Dad growls, stabbing at his food. “I think a better cause would be focusing on expanding your business, son. Do you realize how much more you'd be able to raise for folks in need if you made Club Zing a franchise?”
We lock eyes. It's the same goddamned shit we've been through before. On the surface, Dad wants me to make something of myself, become my own self-made millionaire so I'm not forever in his shadow.
But I know at the root it's the same bullshit. He wanted the perfect son. He thought he could raise one part-time, fill the gap left by ma's death with endless maids and tutors.
Obviously, it didn't fucking work.
He got me instead.
Drinker. Playboy. Fighter.
Not his little prince, hanging on his every word and jonesing at the chance to take over his multi-billion dollar empire.
I don't hide what I am. I get down and dirty in the ring when I'm not fucking some slut's brains out in the nearest room. Got no apologies about it neither – I've busted a few teeth and blooded noses in my time. I've left bruises on my opponents so hard they'll be feeling them for weeks. And I've taken my share of pain too.
Yeah, it's fucked up, but I'm not gonna stop. The bastard across the table can't make me with his guilt trip and fatherly glare, and neither will these two freaks joining the family. No, make that one tight wound freak and her very fuckable daughter.#p#分页标题#e#
“I know I'd raise a lot, and probably turn into a flabby old fucker too. Not interested, Dad. I'm planning to live a good long life and stay fit. Work hard, play hard. Don't tell me you wanna have this argument again?”
I watch his fingers writhe as he grabs his coffee and brings it to his lips. If we were alone, the cup would be half-depleted by now, losing half its shit on the table when he slams it down like a stone. I'd be grabbing my plate and running off to my room, leaving his sorry ass screaming after me, pouring out all the impotent rage I set off in his skull.
“I don't want any arguments today, Ty,” he says, stuffing his emotions. “I wouldn't dream of ruining our first family breakfast together. We'll just have to agree to disagree.”
Amanda plasters a big grin on her face. Yeah, she's a tough old bird, but she's got some of her girl's looks too. She must've been quite a number back when she was Claire's age.
“So, how about the Denali wedding? You got any pictures, or was it all just done on the fly?” I'm really pushing my old man's self-control.
He shoots us the biggest, fakest smile I've ever seen. “Only a few. You'll all see them later. Truth be told, we couldn't contain ourselves. There wasn't much time for a proper photographer. When Mandy said yes, it was right off to the park. We had to get it done.”
“And it was perfect.” Mandy slides her hand into my dad's.
Claire looks at me, an eyebrow raised, while they kiss. Little Miss Perfect and me are on the same side here – grossed out and seriously suspicious.