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Once again, the urge to tell him, to lay all of her worries and burdens at his feet, welled up inside her. And maybe it was the pain, maybe it was being cuddled by him after he’d so thoroughly punished her, but she found the words very nearly spilling out of her mouth. So she did the only thing she could think of to stop them.
She kissed him.
It was a move of pure desperation, and she thought for sure he would shove her away in disgust. But he didn’t. For a moment, he simply froze, as if he wasn’t sure exactly what was happening.
Only a moment, though, before he was kissing her back. And not just kissing her. Devouring her. Consuming her. As his arms tightened around her, she forgot all about the fact that she was supposed to be distracting him from his determination to learn her secrets, and she surrendered in a way she hadn’t quite managed during her spanking. For one brief, shining moment, the world fell away. She was just a woman, being kissed breathless by a man.
“Fuck!” The word exploded out of him as he yanked away, his eyes filled with what looked far too much like regret for her comfort. “Lottie, I’m so sorry. I should never have… I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t,” she reminded him, putting her pride on the line to close the distance between them. “I did. And I want to do it again. I want to do more.” Putting on what she hoped was a seductive smile, she tilted her head back and leaned into him. “Take me to bed… Daddy.”
She knew before he spoke again it was the wrong thing to say. As soon as the word left her lips, the shutters slammed down over his eyes, closing him off from her. Wrapping his hands around her upper arms, he gently but firmly pushed her away. “You need to go. I’m not your Daddy, Charlotte, and you will not use that title without permission ever again. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”
Hurt and humiliation turned her face into an inferno. “Yes, Sir,” she said stiffly.
Turning on her heel, she grabbed her purse from where she’d dropped it on the couch and hurried for the front door.
She didn’t let the tears come until she was safely tucked away in her bedroom, where nobody could hear her shame.
10
REGRETS
BRADEN
Fuck.
That wounded look in Charlotte’s eyes was going to haunt him in his sleep, he just knew it.
But what else was he supposed to do? Taking her to bed as she’d requested was off the table.
Why?
Because she was his best friend’s daughter, for fuck’s sake.
So? It worked out for Damian. Why shouldn’t you get a chance at what he has?
Annoyed with that little whisper of doubt in the back of his mind, Braden tossed the ruler he’d just used on Charlotte’s perfectly round ass back into the desk drawer and slammed it shut. He stalked upstairs to his bedroom, not for the first time taking note of how big and empty the house seemed these days.
There’d been a time he’d dreamt of filling it with children. It was the whole reason he’d bought such a stupidly large house in the first place, even though Damian and Desmond had both rolled their eyes at him.
Well. Perhaps not the whole reason. He was self-aware enough to admit he enjoyed the status of the gated community with its spacious lots and towering mansions. But he had wanted a large family, too, and that had certainly factored into his purchase.
Then one thing had led to another, and the next thing he’d known Laura was gone, and she’d taken Aria with her.
He’d assumed he’d remarry again, at some point, so he kept the house. After all, he owned a kink club. He had no shortage of beautiful, submissive women in his life.
And yet, here he was, fifteen years after Laura had walked out of his life, and still all alone in this huge, empty, fucking house. Having completely inappropriate thoughts about the girl next door, who was less than five years older than his own daughter.
There was something seriously fucking wrong with him.
Not that it seemed to matter to his cock, which was still straining painfully against the zipper of his dress slacks.
Standing at the window that overlooked his side lawn and, from a distance, the Duvall house, he squeezed the bulge in his pants to give himself a bit of relief. But it wasn't nearly enough. Not when he could still taste Charlotte on his lips, could still feel the heat of her well-punished ass against his hand. The same hand he now used to free his aching cock from the confines of his slacks.
Guilt swirled with arousal in a shameful, intoxicating cocktail as he let the memory of Charlotte, bent over his desk with her bottom turning redder and redder under his ruler, play over in his mind. It was, without a doubt, the hottest fucking scene he’d been a part of in years, even if he hadn’t meant for it to be the least bit erotic. He’d meant to teach her a lesson, nothing more.
Liar.
