“Yes. If this is truth or dare, I’ve changed my mind. Get my phone. You can look through it.”
I chuckle. “Well played, sweetheart.”
Chapter Eight
Autumn
* * *
I’m so far past mortified that the scale is broken. We’re playing a game here, dancing around the giant elephant he mentioned. I know it; he knows it. It’s just a matter of which of us will break first.
I feel the energy in the air. The man has juice boxes and fed me mac and cheese. He calls me Baby girl. He brushed out my hair and offered to braid it. He tucked me into bed.
If he’s not a Daddy, I’ll eat my shirt, and that would be humiliating since it’s the only thing I’m wearing. But I don’t want to be the one to say it out loud because that would be more embarrassing than admitting I’m Little would be if he stared at me like I have two heads and told me he doesn’t know what that means.
Mace stands abruptly, taking the bait. He releases me and turns to stride across the room.
I see my purse on the counter, and he grabs it and brings it to me.
My hands are trembling as I release the zipper and pull out my phone. It’s dead, as I suspected. It barely had any life when I arrived this morning. I didn’t leave the house with a charger. I didn’t leave the house with a damn thing, except the envelope and my purse. I held both in my lap most of the way here, only reluctantly stowing them under the seat in front of me for takeoff and landing.
“It’s dead,” I say as I hand it over.
“Lucky for me, I have a charger.” He laughs. “Come.” He sets my purse and phone on the island so he can, once again, lift me off the stool. At least he stands me on my feet this time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he carried me.
That’s how strong his Daddy tendencies are. But maybe I’m filled with nothing but wishful thinking. Just because I’ve always let my wild daydreams paint Mace as the world’s most perfect Daddy Dom and me as his sassy, naughty Little girl does not mean it’s in the realm of possibilities. My imagination is vivid.
Mace leads me across the large space toward a giant navy overstuffed armchair with a matching ottoman. He settles on it before leaning over the side to tug a charger up from where it’s mysteriously plugged into an outlet in the floor.
Sheesh. The man has everything. After attaching my phone, he sets it on the wide, comfy arm, stretches his legs out on the footstool, and pats his lap. “Sit with me.”
“On your lap?”
“Yep.”
I wring my fingers together in front of me. It’s not that I don’t want to sit on his lap. I’d give anything for such an opportunity, but I’m still only wearing a thin T-shirt, and it’s not going to be graceful arranging myself over his thighs.
“Autumn…” he says in that warning tone he reserves for reprimanding me. I’ve been with him only a handful of hours, and he’s mastered the art of making me feel more Little than I ever expected.
Carefully, I set a knee on the ottoman and then crawl closer. My ass is practically hanging out. The ass he’s most likely going to spank soon. At least I hope so. First, we have to clear the air, and I suspect that’s about to happen as soon as he opens my reading list.
I wish I was the sort of person who could just blurt out, I’m Little. Are you happy? But I’m not that brave.
When I’m close enough, Mace lifts my hips and turns me to settle me sideways on his lap. I bend my knees, so I’m snuggled against his chest. It feels so good. So right.
If he weren’t distracting me by fulfilling all my wildest dreams, I would be a blubbering mess. I know I’m avoiding my grief. It’s going to surface again at some point. I’ve buried my father’s death somewhere deep to explore more later. I’m cried out for today.
I’m stunned to find out my father knew I had a crush on Mace. I’m doubly shocked to learn that he believed the same was true for Mace and gave him his blessing to pursue me. The complete one-eighty from thinking I would never voice my feelings for this man to sitting on his lap is making my head spin.
In a good way. It’s also distracting me from my grief, which is a welcome reprieve.
I’m not at all sure I like this arrangement with regard to him digging around in my phone. I’d rather be hiding somewhere like the back of a closet, curled into a ball, rocking and whimpering while waiting to discover my fate.
This is important. Once my preferences are out, it either solidifies our weird new relationship or ruins it. Either way, it has to be done, and I’d rather he be the one to figure it out and voice his own.
Mace tucks my cheek against his shoulder, wraps his arms around me, and holds my phone in front of him where I can see it at the same time.
I try to remember to breathe when he opens it. I’m kind of surprised it comes on so quickly. I suppose it just needed to be plugged in to get enough juice to function.
