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Christopher’s expression isn’t lust first. It’s something protective and raw. His thumb brushes my cheek.

“There’s my little girl,” he says quietly. “I like that word on your sweet lips.”

That nearly undoes me. “That felt really good,” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I lean into his chest again. His arm comes around me, and for once I don’t fill the silence. I just let him hold me.

“We’re still taking this slowly,” he murmurs into my hair.

“Define slowly.”

“Amber.” His hand tightens slightly at my waist. “Keep pushing.”

My whole body warms. I smile against his shirt. “What? I’m just exploring the map.”

He exhales through his nose, and standing there wrapped in the arms of the grumpiest man I’ve ever met, I realize I’ve never felt more like myself. Not less capable. Not childish. Just Amber, bright, mischievous, little, and wanted, all at once.

Turns out Daddy has entered the game.

And he is going to be very difficult to beat.

CHAPTER 7

Ilast exactly four days before I test him. Which, in my defense, is longer than expected. Not by Christopher. By me. Christopher expected approximately twelve minutes. I know this because on Sunday night, after he reminded me to get some sleep before Monday practice, I texted:

Me: You know I’m very well behaved.

Christopher: No, you’re not.

I stared at the message for an entire minute.

Me: Wow.

Christopher: You’re a good girl.

My stomach did an embarrassing flip.

Christopher: That is not the same thing as well-behaved.

I screenshot that one and sent it to the girls. Obviously. And they had opinions. Many opinions. Mostly inappropriate ones. But since then, I’ve behaved. Mostly. I’ve eaten. I’ve slept. I’ve checked in. I have not deliberately broken any rules.

Which is why what happens Wednesday afternoon is technically research. Not exactly misbehavior. Research. Important distinction.

I’m sitting in my gaming chair with my headset around my neck, staring at the clock on my second monitor. Practice ended twenty minutes ago. My sponsor stream starts in an hour. Christopher knows that. He also knows I’ve barely eaten, because he texted me at noon.

Christopher: Lunch?

Me: Busy.

Christopher: I didn’t ask if you were busy; I asked about lunch.

I ignored it. Not because I forgot. Not because I was distracted. Because I wanted to see what happened. I’m curious as to how much reality and books have in common. I also really want to know how Christopher will respond. I know, not super mature of me. But, I’m a little and littles will little. Isn’t testing a Daddy a part of the process?

Now I’m sitting here with my stomach growling, and my phone face down beside the keyboard. It buzzes. I look at it. I don’t touch it. It buzzes again. I pick it up.