“No, that’s should be mine, Dad!” she hissed, her hands shooting at my head.A tingle raced through my mind the moment I settled the circlet on i.... I shuddered as this prickling heat rippled through my mind. My daughter’s fingers seized my hair, sliding through it. Her breasts jiggled in her low-cut top as she hissed in frustration.“Stop being a bitch right now!” I growled.Needle-like pain stabbed into my eyes. My daughter gasped, her brown eyes—the same hue as her mother’s—widened. Her hands. Bob later found out Steve only had to work an hour on the golf game, because the president only had time for nine holes.He knew he should sleep. He only had eight hours off. But after the golf debacle, he needed to talk to Riley so he'd think about her instead of what was still making him mad. Maybe then he could sleep.He didn't want to use government assets to Skype, so he ducked out to a little restaurant a couple of blocks up the street from the agency building. They had wifi, and he was. More

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