𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚎̀ 𝚃𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚎 | John Price

Chapter Eighteen

"Hey, Mel?"

Melody hums, peaking at Daisy over her cards. "Yes, Daisy?"

"Do you wanna get tattoos together?" Daisy asks randomly, as if it's another normal question she's asking.

Melody looks up, surprised, then smiles while setting down her cards. "What kind of tattoos?"

"Matching ones." Daisy's eyes light up with mischief, leaning in closer to her friend. "Maybe something small, but meaningful?"

Melody nods, already warming to the idea. "Like what?"

"Something we both love, obviously... Something cute."

Melody's smile widens. "What do we both love?" They think in silence for a moment, until Melody snaps her fingers. "Ghosts! We both like going around in our ghost costumes. We could do something like that in chibi style. What do you think?"

Daisy nods enthusiastically. "That would be so freaking cute! Matching chibi ghost tattoos it is."

"We can totally do it this weekend," Melody says, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "But let's keep it a secret from Dad. He'll flip out if he finds out we're getting inked up again. Last time, he didn't talk to me for a week after I got the butterfly on my ankle."

"I'm pretty sure he still doesn't know about the butterfly on the back of my neck," Daisy snorts.

The girls continue playing cards and chatting before Melody finally decides to head to bed. "Goodnight, Daisy."

"Goodnight, Mel. Don't fuck your sleep paralysis demon." Daisy giggles as Melody rolls her eyes and heads upstairs. She hums softly as she cleans up their card game before grabbing a glass of water. She hears keys jingle in the front door and knows John is back from the bar.

He stumbles inside, his grumbling echoing through the hallway. "Anyone still up?" he calls out, his voice slightly slurred.

"In the kitchen," she calls back, her voice chipper despite the late hour.

He appears in the doorway, his eyes taking in her bare feet and the hem of her shirt riding up slightly from her leaning on the counter. "Hi, sweetheart. Why are you still awake?"

"Melody and I just finished a game of cards. How was your night out?" Daisy asks, her tone innocent.

"It was fine, just some drinks and jokes with the lads." He leans against the door frame, his eyes never leaving her.

"Yeah? Sounds like you had fun." Daisy smiles up at him, her eyes sparkling.

"It was alright. Nothing beats a night in with my girls, though." John's voice is warm, and it sends a shiver down her spine.

"You're sweet, Captain, but we were pretty tame tonight." Daisy smiles softly before turning away from him, trying to reign in her emotions.

John closes the distance between them, his hand landing gently on her waist. "You okay, pretty girl? You seem stiff tonight."

Daisy swallows hard, feeling the heat of his touch through her thin shirt. "I'm fine. Just ready for bed." She turns around to face him again, finding him right in her space.

He looks into her eyes, searching for something she's not quite ready to give. "You sure?" His hand slides around to the small of her back, pulling her closer.

Daisy's heart hammers in her chest, her body responding to his proximity in ways she hadn't anticipated. She's aware of every inch of him—His cologne, the stubble on his cheek, the way his thumb traces lazy circles on her skin. "Yeah... I'm sure."

"You don't have to lie to me, sweetheart. I can see the way you're looking at me." John's voice is low, a hint of a smolder in his eyes that Daisy's never seen before. She tries to step back, but his grip tightens. Her breath catches in her throat, her heart racing as she looks up at him. "Let me kiss you, Daisy. Just once." He leans in, his breath warm against her face.

"You're drunk, John. You won't even remember this in the morning."

He chuckles, the sound deep and a little sad. "Maybe I will, maybe I won't. But I'll regret it if I don't do it now." His eyes search hers, looking for permission.

"John—" she sighs softly, her eyes fluttering shut as his lips meet hers. The kiss is gentle at first, tentative, as if he's afraid she'll pull away. But Daisy doesn't. Instead, she finds herself leaning into it, feeling a fire light within her that she's never felt before.

The kitchen spins around them, the only thing keeping her grounded is his hand on her back, the other cradling her face. The taste of whiskey and cologne mingles with the mint on his breath, a heady mix that sends her head spinning. She's lost in the moment, lost in the way he makes her feel. Melody's father, her best friend's dad, the man who's been her confidant and protector—He's kissing her. And she's letting him.

John's hand slides up her back, tangling in her hair as the kiss deepens. He gets more passionate, more eager as he holds her against his large frame, his tongue slipping into her mouth. "Babygirl... You taste like vanilla and fucking paradise," he groans, his voice thick with desire. "I need you." He pulls her closer by the hips as he continues kissing her like a man who's been lost in the desert and has finally found water.

"We can't, John. You're drunk," she whines, her voice muffled by his eager mouth.

He breaks away for a moment, his eyes searching hers, trying to read the truth in their depths. "I'm not that drunk, Daisy. I know what I'm doing." His thumb strokes her bottom lip, leaving it wet and shiny.

Daisy's heart is racing so fast she thinks it might just burst out of her chest. She opens her mouth to protest again, but before she can get a word out, John's mouth is back on hers, silencing her objections. The kiss turns more urgent, his hand sliding under her shirt, finding her bare skin. Daisy gasps, the sensation both terrifying and exhilarating.

"Please—I can't, John. It's too soon," she whimpers, and he immediately stops kissing her, instead tucking her head beneath his chin.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," he whispers into her hair, his arms tightening around her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Please forgive me."

"It's okay, John—It's okay," she whispers back, her voice shaking as she clings to him tightly. "I wish the circumstances were different... I really loved your kisses," she confesses, her heart racing in his embrace.

John sighs heavily, his hand coming to rest at the base of her neck, his thumb tracing circles. "We can take it slow, Daisy. I'll wait for you to be ready." He pulls back, looking into her eyes again, searching for reassurance. "I'm never gonna hurt you, sweet girl. Never in a million fucking years."

"I trust you, John—Only you."