I open my mouth, but no words come. I can't believe what I'm looking at - my dad, standing in front of me, holding a pair of my underwear. Dirty underwear, no less. I don't know if I've ever been more mortified.

I try again to think of something to fill the space, but I'm a horrible liar. I couldn't think of an excuse if my life depended on it. And judging by the look on his face, it just might.

"Picture this," he says, voice taut as he cuts off any explanation I was about to fabricate. "I'm sitting with Avery, watching the game. Innocent as ever. We got a point, I cheer and drop my phone inside the couch cushion. I reach in to grab it out, and come up with a pair of panties."

He waves them in the air like I need them emphasized any more.

"At first I think, damn Avery! I mean, I know he's a ladykiller, I know he gets around, it didn't surprise me all that much. But when I caught sight of them along with the look on his face, I knew! I just knew, April! It's a good thing he didn't try and make something up. That would've made things worse, and they're already bad enough."

I sit up, asserting my presence though I feel anything but confident. "You don't know they're mine," I say. "I… I… they're not."

"He already gave you away!" Dad shouts. "He gave both of you away!"

I stand up to level our playing field and cross my arms, shooting him a hard stare. I'm so angry and embarrassed that I might start to cry at any second, though that's the last thing I want. I'm an adult. I can handle this in an adult manner.

"Why do you care!" I say, realizing that my tone of voice isn't exactly the 'adult' one I'd been going for. "You can't police who I have sex with. I'm a grown woman. You have to accept the fact that I'm having sex. That's what adults do. You have no basis to shame me about it! Don't you know how wrong that is?"

"I asked one thing of you," he says, his voice the total opposite of mine. It's calm and even, while mine was pitchy and a bit unhinged. "To stay away from Jackson. He has a reputation, April, do you not understand that? Do you not get that I don't want to see you get hurt? You're my little girl."

"I'm not little," I say. "I'm 21. I'm not a kid, I'm not a baby. Just because I still live here doesn't mean you can treat me like one."

He shakes his head. "That's not what I'm saying," he says. "Put yourself in my shoes for a minute. You and I, we've always been a team. We got each other, that's it. And the thought of someone hurting you when I have the power to stop it…" He purses his lips. "I can't stand it. I'd hate myself."

I let out a long breath, trying to loosen the muscles that tightened with anger. "Dad…" I say. "I get it. But it's not like that between me and him. I… I don't know. I think I really have feelings for him. He's not like you say. Or, I don't know, maybe he was. But he doesn't act like that with me."

There's a pocket of silence where I think he's finally going to see my side. He crosses his arms, lets out an exasperated breath, then closes his eyes.

"And I wonder why," he says. "April, honey, you have to understand that I'm a man and I know how our thought processes work. Of course, he didn't show that side to you. Why would he? He wanted to get in your pants." He raises his eyebrows. "And would you look at that? It worked like a charm."

I grit my teeth, face heating up with rage. "You don't know what you're saying," I growl. "And I can't believe you'd talk to me like that!" I angrily gather the books I'd been surrounded with and storm out of the living room, shoving past him to get to the stairs.

"Punk-"

"No!" I shout, without turning around. I don't want to look at him right now, I don't think I could stomach it. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say."

"April, listen to me."

"I have homework," I say, arms wrapped tight around my books as I stomp up the stairs. "Good night."

He doesn't call after me or try and follow. I'm grateful, too, because I don't know what I might have done if he had. I'm ready to fly off the handle and do something irrational; he made me so angry that I can't see straight.

He still thinks I'm a child, that much is clear. And not only that, he insulted who I am as a woman. I come to the conclusion that he'll never see me as a grown-up. To me, I'll always be that little redhead in a tutu, toddling around in front of the camera. I don't think there's a way to make him see that I'm not her anymore. That he can't keep me in his pocket forever.

I want to get back at him; to prove him wrong. And as I sit in my room and stew, only one idea comes to mind on how to do just that.

"I need to see you."

I barely even let the 'hello' pass Jackson's lips before I start talking. I didn't bother with texting; it would take too much time, and I couldn't wait. I needed to hear his voice. There wasn't another option.

And now, though nerves toil in my stomach and I feel like I might throw up, it's a relief to have him on the phone.

"April," he says, letting out a pent-up sigh. "I wasn't sure if I'd ever hear from you again."

"I'm so sorry about what happened," I say. "I should have been more careful."

"It wasn't your fault," he says. "You don't have to apologize."

"I do, though," I say. "My dad probably went crazy on you."

"Did he do the same for you?"

"Kind of," I mutter. "We got in a huge fight. We haven't spoken much since."

"I'm sorry," he says.

"Stop," I say, sounding a bit helpless. "You shouldn't…"

"I feel like it is my fault, though," he says. "You're his daughter. Your relationship matters so much more than the one between he and I."

"It doesn't mean he was right, though," I say. "I'm tired of him treating me like a child. I know that's so cliche, I know. I know I sound like an idiot."

"You don't," he says. "Don't say that."

I sigh. "Well… it's still true. He can't treat me like he did."

"He shouldn't. You're right."

"I'm a grown woman," I say adamantly.

He chuckles softly, almost imperceptibly. "Believe me, I know," he says.

I smirk a bit, just to myself. "So… I was hoping I could still see you," I say, voice lilting. "Will you come over?"

"There?" he asks. "Wouldn't it be safer if you came here?"

I blink hard and furrow my eyebrows. "I don't want to hide from him, Jackson," I say. "We're not doing anything wrong."

There's a small pause before he continues. "Okay," he says. "You're right."

"So… tonight?" I ask.

"I can head over right now," he says. "God, I'm dying to see you."

"I know," I say. "Me, too. Hurry."

I clean my room while he's on the way and take a long, hot shower. I shave everything that needs to be shaved, taking extra care, and put on a robe once my skin is smooth and covered in sweet-smelling lotion. I dry my hair so it rests in thick waves around my shoulders and make sure house is empty. I knew my dad would be gone tonight, but I tell myself that it wouldn't matter even if he were here. It's my life.

When the doorbell rings, I hurry to the door but slow down once I reach it. I smooth out the robe and fluff my hair, trying to appear completely at ease and put together when I answer.

"Hey," I say, pulling it open. Jackson stands there with a bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other, looking casual yet classy. My cool facade drops when I see his face; I can't help the smile that blossoms on my lips. "Hi," I say, eyes crinkling at the edges.

"Hi," he says, and for a moment he seems so much younger than he is - more like a hopeful teenage boy than a successful man. It's endearing, and it makes my heart flutter. "These are for you."

He hands me the flowers and I smell them while keeping eye contact with him. "They're beautiful," I say, then beckon him inside. "Come in. I'll find a vase."

When the door closes, he kicks off his shoes and follows me into the kitchen. Without looking, I can feel his eyes on my ass. I wore the silky robe for a reason.

"So… no Mark tonight?" he asks, trying to sound careless.

"Nope," I say, standing on tiptoes to try and reach a vase in a high cabinet.

Before I hurt myself or break something, he comes around and reaches it easily. "Here," he says, handing it to me while wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Thanks," I say, holding it with two hands while he pulls me closer. I smile, run my teeth over my lower lip, and giggle a bit. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he says, swiping a thumb over my cheekbone. "God, you're beautiful."

He kisses my cheek, lingering for a long moment, and I close my eyes. I set the vase on the counter and wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him in as I move my head to kiss him. It's no innocent kiss, either; it's full of hot breath, heavy tongue, and teeth on lips.

"I want you," I whisper. "Can we go up to my bedroom?"

"Of course," he says, keeping hold of my waist while I fill the vase with water and deposit the flowers in. "Did you want to try the wine?"

"After," I say, pushing his hand so he sets the bottle on the wooden island. "I just… I don't really wanna wait."

He tucks his face into my neck and grabs two firm fistfuls of my ass, yanking me closer. "That's my kinda woman," he says, mouth moving against my pulse point as he speaks.

When we get upstairs, I shut and lock my bedroom door for good measure and hope he doesn't notice. I don't want him to think I'm hiding him - us - from my dad, because I'm not. I would just rather not be walked in on if he happened to come home, which I don't think should happen. But either way, it puts me at ease and I'll be able to enjoy myself, and him, more.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you," he says, sitting on the bed and pulling me to stand between his spread knees. "I just didn't know… if it was okay…"

"Shh…" I say, running my fingers through his hair. "I haven't stopped thinking about you, either. Not for a single minute."

He smiles and places his hands on the tie of my robe, keeping his eyes on mine while he undoes it. "What do you have on under here?" he asks, as the ribbons fall to either side.

"Find out," I say, and he moves the robe away to reveal my naked body. I giggle softly and say, "Nothing."

"Fuck," he says, leaning forward to press his nose to the top of my rib cage. "Just how I like you."

I hold the back of his head while he kisses my exposed skin, letting my eyelids twitch and flutter because of how good his mouth feels. He opens it wide over my stomach, taking small portions between his teeth and nipping softly, probably leaving marks.

"You taste good," he says, sliding his hands around my back underneath the robe.

"Lotion," I say.

He shakes his head and hums against my skin. "Mmm, no. Just you."

I smile and shake my head softly, so happy that he's in my vicinity and we're about to have sex. For some reason, every time we separate, it feels like we'll never see each other again.

He pushes the robe off of my arms so it sinks to the floor soundlessly, then skims his hands up my sides to land over my breasts. He squeezes them heartily, pressing his lips to the middle of my chest and my pounding heart, then pulls me onto his lap.

With a knee on either side of his hips, I get comfortable straddling him. My breasts are at face-level now, so he doesn't waste any time in putting the right one in his mouth. He kneads my ass with strong fingers and my lips part in a gasp, enamored with how he touches me.

When he pulls away to kiss the open plane of my chest, I want him back instantly. I cup the underside of the breast that he hasn't yet paid attention to and push it towards his face, and he laughs softly.

"Eager," he says.

"It felt good," I say, still holding it and nudging it towards his mouth.

He keeps his eyes cemented on mine as he sucks it into his mouth, massaging the other with a free hand as he goes. He closes his eyes eventually and gets into it, covering almost the entire thing, and my hips start to grind against his of their own accord.

"Oh, baby," he says, slipping one hand between my legs. "You want it, don't you?"

"Yeah," I breathe, pulling his shirt off. "So bad."

He shimmies out of his pants and kicks them off the bed, and I clamber for the box of condoms that I bought specifically for this occasion. I can't help but fumble with one once I get it out - my body is full of nerves and excitement - but he just watches me with a bemused expression on his face.

"You wanna put it on for me?" he asks, when I crawl back to him.

I glance at his erection, so hard that it's resting on his stomach. He looks cocky, lying on his back with his fingers laced together behind his head, waiting on my next move.

"Yeah," I say, and sit on his thighs.

I stare at the tip of his penis, but I don't put on the condom quite yet. Instead, I just look at it and wrap my hand around the base, which makes him prop himself up on both elbows to watch me with interest.

"What?" he says, eyebrows raised.

I smile a bit, stroking him while watching a bit of moisture appear on the tip. I'm still new to handling it, so my confidence comes mostly from the way he's watching me - with pure lust and fascination. I must be doing something right.

"It's just…" I say.

"Just what?"

I lean forward and kiss the head - wet and slow. When I pull away, a lascivious sound comes with, and I run my thumb over where my mouth had just been.

"It's the same color as your lips," I whisper, then trace the head with the tip of my pointer finger. "This part."

"Oh, yeah?" he says, situating his hips.

"Mmmm…" I hum, nodding.

"You've got the same thing going on," he says.

I roll my eyes. "I… don't have a penis," I say, still pumping his lazily.

"No," he says. "But…" He sits up and flips me over so I land on my back breathlessly. I keep the condom in one hand while he pins me down with his legs, holding the sides of my ribs confidently. "Your cute little nipples… you didn't know those are the same color as your lips, too?"

"Liar," I say, joking with him.

"I speak the truth," he says, planting a kiss on either one before moving up to my mouth.

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer, nudging his chin so I can kiss his neck. His hips begin to move against mine, so I drag my fingernails down his sides and dig in once I get to his waist.

"About the condom," I murmur, snaking my legs around his middle to press my heels into his thighs.

"Right," he says, chuckling before kissing me with a smile. "Someone's antsy."

"No…" I say, drawing out the word. "I just want you."

"Yes, baby," he says, kissing the corner of my jaw. When he uses the pet name, my insides go all mushy and I want nothing more than to give myself to him. It's all that seems fitting. "Whatever you want."

He sits up on his knees and opens my fingers, knowing right where the condom is. While grinning, he rolls it on and bends at the waist to kiss my belly, massaging my hips with both hands.

"You ready?" he asks.

"Yes," I say. "Yes."

He kisses me hard, pushing inside me gently, but swift. My mouth drops open and he smiles in response, then reaches to trace my lower lip before slipping a finger inside my mouth.

"Suck on it," he whispers, adding another.

I hold his wrist with one hand and meet his eyes headily, then close my lips around both his fingers. I run my tongue down the length of them, hollowing out my cheeks as he pushes deeper and moves his hips in the same rhythm.

His body is so powerful; he's all sinew and muscle. But at the same time, he's careful to the point of making me melt. He takes his fingers out of my mouth and uses that hand to frame my face, and the damp spot they create near my hair doesn't even cross my mind - the only thing I'm thinking about is the way he's looking at me. His eyes are soft, full of feeling, and his eyelashes flutter with every thrust of his hips. He's just as into this as I am, that much is clear.

I hug his neck and throw my head back, breathing deeply as he fills me. He bites across my collarbones and grabs at my breasts with one hand, bracing the other near my head.

"You wanna come?" he asks.

"Mmm…" I moan, breathing heavier as he continues to move. "Yeah."

I reach up and grip the bars of my headboard as he slams into me harder, whimpering with each pump of his hips. He kisses all over my face and pushes in deep and confident, just at the right speed and angle to get me to the orgasm I want so bad.

My whole body quakes as it ripples through me, and I cover my face with my hands before he pulls my wrists down. "I wanna see you," he says, hips still working.

With my eyebrows screwed up and my mouth wide open, I let loose and make sounds I didn't know I was capable of. I hear him smile more than I see it as he turns his face to kiss my ear, lingering while he rides out his own orgasm a few minutes later.

"Fuck yes," he grunts, spilling inside me. I can feel him pulsing - and I have a primal need to take everything in. "Holy… shit."

He doesn't give himself time to catch his breath after he pulls out and ties the condom off. Instead, he parts my thighs and scoots me down the mattress, dropping kisses all over my legs.

Just the sight of him there gets me hot and bothered all over again, but I don't want him to feel obligated. "You don't have to," I breathe, running my fingers through his hair.

My body gives me away, though. When he nears my heat with his mouth, my pelvis jolts to find some sort of friction - totally out of my control.

"No?" he says, teasing me.

"I…" I shake my head, warding off the blush. "You already made me come."

"Is there a law that says I shouldn't do it again?"

I smile - loose and breathless - while he situates his hands around my thighs. "No," I sigh. "I guess not."

"You have to realize how much I love doing this for you, April," he says, and it ignites a fire when he uses my name.

"Can you…" I begin, but lose my gumption for a moment. It's only after he continues to kiss and stroke me that I try again. "Can you say my name?"

His eyes flash. "April," he says, and I moan with my lips pressed together. "You taste so fucking good."

"Oh, god," I cry, my breath coming labored and jagged now. "Oh, my god…"

He comes through on his promise - he does make me come a second time, and it's even better than the first. He knows what he's doing with his mouth and fingers, that's for sure. By the time I've come down from my orgasm, my whole body is sweating and he looks especially proud of himself.

He kisses either of my hip bones jutting out from my skin, taking his time to massage them with his thumbs after. "Skinny-bones," he whispers.

"Shut up," I mutter, nudging him with my knee.

He smiles and crawls so we're at face-level with each other. He lies on the pillow next to me and I turn so we're nose-to-nose. He holds the side of my face and kisses me deeply, kisses me with so much feeling that I barely know how to handle it.

"Jackson," I exhale, when we finally pull apart. His name comes involuntarily - I hadn't meant to say it.

"Yes," he says, stroking my arm.

I part my lips, the words perched on the tip of my tongue. Looking deep into his eyes, I decide that if I don't say them now, I never will. "I think I have feelings for you," I say.

He smirks and nudges my nose with his, then kisses me again.

"That must sound so stupid, geez. I sound about twelve years-"

"I feel the same way about you," he says, quieting me with a finger to my lips. "Very much so."

I feel myself physically brighten when he says those words. I don't ruin it by saying anything else; instead, I wrap one leg around both of his and rest a hand on his side, studying his face in the low light.

I can't help it; my dad's words from a few days ago ring through my brain as I look at him. He wanted to get in your pants. And would you look at that? It worked like a charm.

"Jackson," I say again, this time a bit more cautious.

"April," he echoes, caressing my face.

"I…" I begin, then shut my mouth. My eyes dart all over and land everywhere but on him. "I don't know."

"Whatever it is, you can say it," he encourages, fingers in my hair. "I'm right here."

I let a short exhale from my nose while trying to maintain an even keel. "My dad has told me time and time again, that you have… a reputation, I guess. That you get around." I chew my lip, suddenly very nervous. "He says that you'll hurt me. That you just wanted to get in my pants." I look up and meet his eyes meaningfully. "That's not true, is it?"

"Oh, April," he says, lifting himself onto an elbow. "God, I…" He looks away for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I'm not proud of it, my history with women. Mark isn't exactly… wrong. But… and I know this sounds like a line, but I swear it's not. It's different with you. You make me feel so many things, all at once. It's kind of terrifying - actually, it really is. But at the same time, it's so amazing. I'm this old and I've never had this feeling before in my life." He touches my chin with his thumb. "You gave it to me. And you are so special to me. I would never, ever hurt you."

"Okay," I say, nodding and running my hand over his bare side.

"Do you believe me?" he asks.

"Yes," I answer, and I really do. I give him a kiss to solidify my answer, then stay with my forehead pressed against his. "Yes, I do."

We spend a little while longer lying in bed together soaking up what we did, when the wine comes back to mind.

"I think we left it downstairs," I say, flopping onto my back with one arm strewn over my head.

"I'll get it," he says, standing to put his boxers on. "As long as you promise to look just like that when I come back."

I giggle and watch him leave, back muscles moving under his skin while he stretches his arms above his head. I lie there for a moment and stare at the ceiling, feeling completely blissed out and in awe of how he makes me feel. I close my eyes, peaceful and relaxed, until I hear something truly upsetting.

"What the hell are you doing naked in my house!"

I sit up, my spine straight and rigid. That's my dad's voice.

"Shit," I say, and scramble around for a pair of pajama shorts and a bra to put on.

I hastily clothe myself enough to hurry downstairs, and when I get there, Jackson is standing in the kitchen with the wine in one hand and my dad is in the hall, staring him down.

"Dad!" I say, and my voice sounds high and unlike myself.

He looks at me with a clenched jaw, totally speechless. I'm not sure if I've ever seen him this way. "April…" he says, then closes his eyes and turns around. "Avery… what the fuck! Seriously, what the ever living fuck!"

I cross my arms over my chest, feeling exposed in front of my dad. I'm not exactly wearing the type of outfit I want him to see me in.

"Mark, listen," Jackson begins, but Dad doesn't let him.

"You swore to me!" he bellows. "You swore you'd leave her alone. This doesn't qualify as leaving my little girl alone!"

"I am not a little girl!" I shriek, arms stiff at my sides. Dad flips around, eyes bulging. "You have to stop treating me like one. I am not a baby anymore! Please, please, respect me enough to acknowledge that."

He gapes, unsure of what to say or how to fill the crackling silence.

"I don't know what kind of promise you forced Jackson to make, but it doesn't matter. We have feelings for each other, and that's not gonna change. No matter what you say or think. So, just stop trying. You can't tell me what to do - you can't tell me who to be with."

"Jesus Christ. Why him?" Dad sputters. "Of all people, April. The age difference… the power imbalance, the…"

"Who cares?" I say, palms up. "Really, who cares?!"

Jackson scratches the back of his head and stares at the floor. When he glances up, he only does so with his eyes. "It's not like the ones before," he says. "I… I want it to last with her. I'm not gonna hurt her, Mark."

Dad shakes his head. "As if I haven't heard that line a million times."

"I don't have to stand here and take this from you," I spit. "You ruin everything."

"Punk…" he says, but I shoot him a look and hold up a flat hand. He doesn't say anything more.

Later, Jackson and I are in my room while Dad does who-knows-what downstairs. Jackson can't stop pacing; he won't settle down. I've been trying to push the interaction from earlier out of my head, but unfortunately it won't leave. And his freakout isn't helping.

"I feel like I'm doing something wrong," he says.

I frown. "By being with me?"

"That's…no, that's not what I mean," he says. "It's just… I'm deliberately disrespecting-"

"He doesn't own me," I say. "Do I have to drill that into your head, too?"

"No," he says. "I just… I just need to say something to him. Clear the air. Let him know that I only have good intentions with you. You're his daughter, April. His only one."

"So, do it then," I say, shrugging. "He's downstairs, probably on the couch. Go ahead and try."

"I will," he says, pulling on his shirt and pants. He makes prolonged eye contact with me, then sighs. "I don't want what we're doing to be built on an unstable foundation. I think we're worth it - I think we're worth doing it right."

I can't help but smile hearing that. "I think so, too," I say, then shrug. "I just don't know how he's gonna take it."

"It won't hurt to try," Jackson says, then leaves the room.

I don't follow him. I stay on my bed, cross-legged, clad in more pajamas than I'd been in a bit ago. I can hear the murmur of their voices a floor below, but it's nothing I can clearly discern.

It seems to take forever, and by the time Jackson comes back upstairs, I'm about ready to jump out of my skin. I meet him at the door, eager for an answer, and he gives me a long, lasting kiss.

"What did he say?" I ask.

"Well… it was a lot," he replies. "But basically, we're okay. Except that he doesn't want any of it happening 'under his roof.'"

I roll my eyes lightly at that, but I'll take what I can get. While Jackson watches from the doorway, I throw some things into a pink overnight bag and lead the way down the stairs, where I catch my dad's eye with one hand braced on the front door.

"Bye, dad," I say, using a tone that's a little too sweet.

Jackson is on my tail, heading out behind me. My dad is perfectly aware where we're going and what's going to happen there, which would explain the less-than-thrilled expression on his face.

"Bye," he grumbles, then sighs deeply. "I love you. Be safe."