My head keeps on nodding, and I’m smiling a little too, because I think that sounds good. It has to be good, because he’s not freaking out already and telling me to leave.
It has to be good, because his robe is hanging further open and he doesn’t even care.
He doesn’t care that I can see he’s hard again.
That I can see he still wants me.
I can hardly breathe as he steps into the room.
I can hear my heart in my ears as he walks to the side of my bed and flicks off that little light.
My eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, but they’re too late to see him slip his dressing gown to the floor. I can only hear the rustle of fabric against skin.
And then the cold air as he pulls the covers aside.
The warmth as he slides in next to me.
The sadness as I realise he’s wearing underwear, that the hardness of him feels so far away.
He pulls me close, my back to his chest, and it feels so right to wriggle into him.
His knees come up and hitch mine, his arm creeps around my waist and holds me tight, and his breath is on my neck. It tickles and my breasts tickle too and I want him to touch me so bad.
“We’ll talk,” he says. “Tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I say, and it sounds so dorky and pathetic.
“Ground rules, Laine. It’s all about the ground rules.”
I nod. Again.
Feel like a stupid kid. Again.
He’s so big in this bed, so big next to me.
And this stupid little kid feels safe at least.
How I want his hand to move from my belly. Up or down, I don’t care which.
But it doesn’t move. Doesn’t move an inch. Not even when I wriggle and squirm and feel his cock still hard against my ass.
My body doesn’t feel like such a stupid kid at all. My body has a life of its own.
My body knows exactly what it wants to do.
But Nick won’t give it to me.
He breathes into my hair and holds me tight, and finally he kisses my neck and it gives me tingles on top of tingles.
It takes me ages to calm down enough to go to sleep. His breathing is even and peaceful, his body so still as I squirm, and eventually I feel that, too.
I’m right on the edge of dreams as he whispers goodnight.
“Goodnight, Laine.” Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
It feels natural.
Right.
This feels right.
And the words that come next feel too right to be wrong.
“Goodnight, Daddy.”
I hold my breath, scared he’s going to pull away, ready with the stupid apologies and the excuses that I’m half-asleep and don’t know what I’m saying.
But he doesn’t.
He doesn’t pull away.
I feel his cock against my ass all over again.
But he doesn’t say a word.
Chapter Eight
Laine
I wake up on my own, and my heart does a little jump. A flip of panic at the thought he’s left me, that he doesn’t want me in the cold light of day.
I slip out of bed and grab my dressing gown, my feet quick on the stairs as I make my way down, and there he is, in the kitchen, and he’s cooking.
He’s already dressed, and he looks even more perfect in his suit this morning. His hair is slick and styled, and so dark that way that you can barely see the grey at his temples. His shirt is crisp and white, and he’s so careful as he fries up eggs.
“Morning sleepyhead,” he says, and he’s smiling. His smile makes my tummy flutter. “I was just about to wake you. Food’s up.”
He flips the eggs onto a plate, and grabs some toast from the toaster. Bacon, too. I smell bacon.
It’s the best smell in the world on a Monday morning.
I take a seat with a smile, say yet another thank you, and my fingers brush his as I take my plate from him. I feel it all the way up my arms.
“Are you all set for college?” he asks. “Anything else you need?”
He takes a seat opposite, tucks right in to his eggs like I didn’t just call him Daddy last night. Like he didn’t sleep in my bed with his big, hard cock against my ass.
“I’m all set,” I say.
“Good.” His eyes are so dark on mine. “I think we should make a start on those ground rules.”
Rules.
I can handle rules.
I nod. “Ok.”
“I’ll be dropping you at college and picking you up at the end of the day. If there are any problems, you call me. If you’re going to be late, you call me. If you need anything, you call me.”
I nod. “Sure.”
“We eat dinner together every evening. You do your college work here. If you need help with it, you ask me.”
“Ok.”
His eyes don’t leave mine. “Do you have any obligations, Laine? Any jobs? Friends? Clubs you need to attend?”
I shake my head. “Just babysitting. Casually. Most weekends.” I pause. “And Kelly Anne. Sometimes I hang out with her.”
“There’s no more need for babysitting, Laine. You’ll have an allowance. It’s better you concentrate on your studying.”
I feel like I should argue, tell him he’s done too much already, but there’s something different about him this morning. Something so… authoritative.
I don’t want to argue with him, so I don’t.
And I like that I don’t.
I like how it feels to have rules.
To have someone who cares the way he does.
“Ok,” I say, and he smiles.
“Good girl.” He tips his head. “How are your eggs?”
I’ve barely noticed them. “Perfect,” I say, and it’s true. They’re just right. Just the right amount of runny.
I dip my toast in and they sure taste great.
Everything is great around Nick.
He slides my phone across the table. “I’ve saved my number in your contacts. You’re on an unlimited plan.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll call you, at lunchtime. Just to check in on you.”
I can’t stop my goofy smile. “Thank you.”
“There’ll be other rules,” he tells me. “But they aren’t for now.”
I nod. “Ok.”
Ok. Everything really does feel ok.
Better than ok.
I feel all the words in my throat. Words about last night, about how good it felt to have him beside me. About how much I like him, how grateful I am, how he’s the best thing ever, and I really mean it.
But they don’t come out.
I just smile, like an idiot, and eat my breakfast.
He takes my plate when I’m done and loads it into the dishwasher with his.
“Get ready,” he says. “We leave in fifteen minutes. We can’t be late, Laine. I’m never late.” He fastens up his cufflinks and slips on his suit jacket from a hanger on the door, and I’m staring, gawping like a silly fool, until he raises an eyebrow. “Chop-chop,” he says, but his eyes are sparkling. “You don’t want to try my patience, sweet thing.”
I don’t try his patience, not even a bit. But there’s a weird flutter between my legs at the thought.
Nick
She cradles her lunchbox in her lap, looking at it as though she’s never had one before. Maybe she hasn’t.
It pleases me to see her so taken aback by simple gestures. It’s one of the things I love the most about Laine, the way everything is a wonder, everything is such a gift.
Spoiling Laine Seabourne brings me great pleasure.
Disciplining Laine Seabourne will easily bring me equal pleasure.
But I don’t let myself consider that. Not yet.
Not before we’ve worked out the ground rules.