My Dad's Bestfriend

Chapter 159 Tension That Never Fades

Evelyn

As I had fucking expected, I couldn't get a wink of sleep the entire night. Wine didn't help, sleeping pills didn't help, and even trying to bring myself to orgasm didn't help, most probably because I refused to imagine his face. He was both my dream and my nightmare, my pleasure and my pain, the object of both my love and hate, my desires and regrets. Sometimes I wished I could erase every single memory of him, but then I realized how meaningless my life would be without them.

He made me miserable but at the same time he made me feel alive.

Fuck! How am I supposed to forget him?

I shook off my thoughts as I washed my face. "God, Evelyn! This is not the time to get fucking emotional and think of all the reasons why you should go back to him because, in reality, you fucking shouldn't!"

Grumbling a few curses, I finished my routine and freshened up for the morning. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I noticed my puffy face despite not having slept at all. I might not show signs of exhaustion, but anyone looking into my eyes would see the frustration.

Being sexually inactive was a pain; being sexually frustrated was torture. But being sexually frustrated because you were left on the edge, right before you could come, was sickening. And that bastard knew it. That's why he did it.

It must have been a plan. To sit there, all sexy and glorious, half-naked and tempting, to lure me into a conversation and do that to me. And guess what? He succeeded. He fucking excelled!

"Argh! I hate him!" I groaned, walking out of the bathroom, and drying my hair with a towel. I wasn't in the mood for a blow-dry today. My mood was shit, and I didn't even want to go downstairs for breakfast, but my stomach was growling with hunger-I needed to eat. So, I made my way downstairs.

I thanked all the gods in my head as I saw only Dad and Clara seated at the breakfast table. I took a seat. "Good morning," I mumbled, diving into the pancakes ready for me, just the way I liked-covered in chocolate syrup. Clara! I didn't know what I'd do without her.

"Well, good morning," Clara smiled, sipping her juice. "How are you feeling today? Any headaches?" Clara's question confused me until I remembered I'd told them I was going out with Cameron. They probably assumed I'd drunk myself out of my wits.

"No headaches, Clara. I didn't drink," I lied.

"Well, that's a lie," Dad said, speaking up for the first time and putting his newspaper down, eyeing me suspiciously. "You came home late last night, and you were drunk."

My stomach clenched as I met Dad's gaze. "I wasn't drunk," I insisted, forcing a smile. "I just had a long night."

"A long night doing what?" he pressed, his eyes narrowing.

"Just...talking," I said, glancing away and hoping he'd drop it.

"Talking?" Clara echoed, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Well, you must have had quite the conversation."

I bit my lip, focusing on my pancakes. The last thing I needed was for them to pry any further. "Yeah, something like that."

"Well, Evelyn," Dad sat straight from his leaning position, his gaze fixating on me, "Your plan has failed because we know you were drunk. Jacob told me he was awake when you came home, all drunk and tipsy."

That piece of...

How dare he!!!

"Is that what that asshole told you? No, I wasn't drunk!" I shouted, frustration boiling over at the mention of Jacob. God, I wanted to kill him, choke him to death.

"I smelled it on you," Jacob's voice suddenly boomed, and I watched as he walked out of the kitchen, holding a bottle of his protein shake. "So, there's no way you can cover this up with your lies." He took the seat opposite me, his messy hair making my fingers itch to touch him. The sight of his beautiful pink lips made me want to brush my thumb over them and then take them into my mouth—I wanted to kiss him even as he pissed me off.

"And mind telling me what exactly you smelled on me?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, and challenging him. "What did I drink? Since you know I was drunk, you must know what I drank. You're quite a fan of alcohol, aren't you? Driving up to your ex to meet her in a hotel, all drunk, kinda proves how much you adore alcohol that it takes you back to your past."

His jaw tensed at the mention of the incident, and the atmosphere thickened. Dad emitted a low whistle, probably enjoying this, and judging from his reaction, he'd probably forgive me about this alcohol thing. Clara looked at both me and Jacob in horror before shooting Dad a pointed stare.

"Vodka," Jacob said after a few moments of silence. "It was vodka."

I had to stop my jaw from dropping on the floor.

He guessed it right. Fuck! How the hell did he do that? Well, certainly he was too close to me last night, with my lip between his teeth and all, but that didn't give him the guarantee that he could guess it so effortlessly, did it? Well, maybe it did.

I glared at him, clearly mad that he exposed my secret. Asshole!

Upon my silence, Dad's amusement turned into seriousness. He looked at me with a stern glare. "Is it true then? You were drunk?"

Okay...maybe he wasn't going to forgive me that easily.

"Well..." I attempted to shake off the tension, scrambling for excuses, but it seemed futile. "Cameron threw a party, so I had a couple of shots. I wasn't exactly plastered."

"Didn't I forbid you from drinking because of those damn headaches you get afterward?!"

"Dude, I don't have a headache today, chill out!"

"Chill? And I'm not your 'dude,' you spoiled brat!" Dad's hand connected with the back of my head, sending a sharp pang through me. "Why the hell did you drink?"

"Because I was with my friends, having fun, and clearly your friend couldn't handle seeing me enjoy myself," I retorted with a scoff. "And why don't you ask him how he even smelled it on me? Isn't that your job?"

Dad's eyebrows shot up as he finally caught on, his gaze turning to Jacob. "How the hell did you smell it on her?"

"Trust me, even someone standing

ten feet away could smell it. She was absolutely hammered," Jacob lied smoothly, his hand gripping my thigh beneath the table. A surge of electricity shot through me as his touch crept upward, tracing over the fabric covering my pussy, magically finding my clit, sending shivers down my spine. "Though I'm not saying I was ten feet away. His voice dropped to a whisper as his gaze locked onto mine, igniting a fiery heat that spread throughout my body. Memories flooded back of his skilled fingers exploring me, igniting a desire that still burned within me, though now, sober and withouth his breath falling on my face and my mind not clouded by alcohol, I could see the mistakes he had made. I wanted him to fuck me but I'd not let him after how badly he screwed up.

But damn, his hand...

His rough, reckless, and sensual hand.....

It could drive me fucking crazy.

"What did you just say?" Dad's attention snapped back to the conversation, apparently missing the last part. Judging by Jacob's expression and the smirk playing on his lips, it seemed he was about to provoke Dad further. However, just as Jacob opened his mouth, the doorbell chimed, diverting all our attention from the escalating tension.

Thank god!

"I'll get the door," Clara offered, starting to rise from her seat. But Jacob's persistent touch, his fingers skirting dangerously close to where my senses were already on edge, moving up and down, creating motions that made me desperate to escape his grasp. With a sense of

oving

urgency, I got up. This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

"No, I'll do it," I interjected hastily, trying to conceal the breathlessness that already betrayed my heightened state. I saw Jacob's smirk widen, a silent acknowledgment of his power to drive me wild. Damn him; he was probably reveling in this, relishing my torment. Fucking bastard!

"Oh," Clara seemed momentarily taken aback before she relented with a shrug. "Okay."

"But we're not finished here," Dad's voice cut through the tension, his gaze fixed sternly on Jacob, who remained nonchalant, casually sipping his protein shake. He was infuriatingly composed while I felt like a bundle of nerves—how I loathed it.

Attempting to tune out their silent battle, I made my way to the door, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. However, as I swung the door open, I was greeted by an unexpected sight.

"Well, I just woke up with this idea," Cameron leaned casually against the doorframe, a charmingly boyish grin lighting up his face. "Thought someone might appreciate roses."