Page 104 of The Daddy’s Girl

I lift my shoulder in a shrug. “It’s not fair. I want to be able to climb into your lap and kiss you in front of everyone.”

He swallows a look of regret. “It’s not you who would be judged.”

“I know that,” I mutter, looking down.

Seeing the look of disappointment on my face, he reaches over and places his fingers under my chin. “Come on, Trouble. Let me walk you home.”

At that, my heart leaps in my chest. Because if there’s one thing Matis and I do have to ourselves, it’s Paris at night.

Strolling over the Pont des Arts with a handful of macarons from Matis’s friend’s bakery, I stare up at the stars while Matis shares a story about his childhood.

I glance over at him, adoring the way he walks slowly with his hands in his pockets and his chin up high. Does he even realize how perfect he is?

“You never knew your father?” I ask when we reach the Left Bank.

Matis shakes his head. “No. I knew his name, I knew where he lived, and I know he knew about me, but he was married. Had a family. I was aware that I would never have a relationship with him, and it never bothered me.”

My brows furrow. “I couldn’t imagine that. Knowing I had a child somewhere and not seeing them.”

His head turns, scrutinizing me with curiosity. “Do you want children?”

Something about the question makes my chest grow hot. If he was anyone else asking, I’d probably shake my head with ease. No, not really. Or at least I never saw myself as the motherly type.

But the fact that Matis is asking me…it changes things. Because now I imagine something I never imagined before. Him coming inside me. Putting a baby in me. His seed dripping down my thighs. Breeding me like my instincts are telling him to.

And then…

Him with a smiling blue-eyed baby on his lap. His lips on my swollen belly. His hand in mine as we watch him or her run ahead of us at the park.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, Amelia.

What are you doing?

These are stupid, dangerous, reckless thoughts that only a girl who wants her heart broken would imagine, but I can’t help myself. It all hits me so fast. I didn’t put those thoughts there as much as they were thrust upon me by a simple question asked by this dashing man I am most certainly falling even more in love with than I was before.

The sweet pastry dust from the cookie goes down my windpipe, and I start coughing. Bent over, I work to catch my breath as Matis rubs my back with a chuckle.

“Are you all right, Trouble?”

“Yeah, it just…went down the wrong pipe.”

When I stand upright, tossing the rest of the cookie in the nearest bin, I dust my hands on my pants and hope I’ve just evaded the uncomfortable question with my near medical emergency.

We only get two steps before he asks again. “Are you sure it wasn’t my question that scared you?”

“Um, no,” I reply without much conviction. “I mean, no, it wasn’t your question. I don’t mind that question.”

“Then what is the answer?” he persists with a devilish smirk.

I spin toward him, walking backward as I turn the attention back on him. “Why are you asking it?”

“I’m curious.”

“Okay, well, you first,” I reply. “Do you want kids?”

He carries himself so casually. As if this question, asked in this setting, between two people who are not really dating and not having sex but doing everything else and definitely can’t be together publicly…although they want to…isn’t incredibly fraught. Well, his coolness sort of grates on me.

“No,” he says so plainly I want to scream.