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“Wrong? Nothing is wrong, silly-billy. I just want to take a shower. I love your tattoos so much. Do you think I would look good with a tattoo?”
“You’d look gorgeous tarred, feathered, with a sack on your head.”
“Kind of an odd look, but I think I could rock it. I might be called chicken sack, though. Or duck sack. Yeah, that’s not a good nickname for me.”
“Girl, stop trying to distract me.”
“Daddy, I would never do that. Sometimes your mind wanders, though. You have very long eyelashes. Can I do your makeup?”
“Girl.” A faint tick had started up right beside his left eye.
That couldn’t be a good sign.
“Yes?”
“You need to stop.”
“Is that a no then? Because you really would look very pretty—”
He put his hand over her mouth.
“You are very lucky that I know you’re doing this to distract me from what’s going on in your head.”
Well, shoot.
“Now, you are going to tell me exactly what is wrong, understand? And in future, you will not try to hide when something upsets you. Or you will get your butt spanked. Another rule.”
He removed his hand, giving her a stern look. She swallowed. Drat. He saw right through her, didn’t he?
“How many rules are there?”
“Girl.”
“I really want to know.”
He thought about that for a moment. “There’s five. Rule one: Don’t say sorry when there is no reason to. Rule two: Do not say bad things about yourself. Rule three: Don’t try to pretend nothing is wrong when something is. Rule four: Do not lie. Rule five: Obey all safety and health orders that you’re given from me.”
“Whoa, rule five is kind of a big one.”
“And important. Now talk.”
She let out a deep breath. “I seem to have developed a rather small, silly phobia about water.” She dropped her gaze, wondering if he’d think her an idiot.
His finger went under her chin, and he tilted her head back. She should have known better than to think he’d let her get away with avoiding this.
“First of all, any sort of phobia is not small or silly. Especially not when you nearly fucking drowned. So you will not make less of this than it is, understand?”
“Yes, bossy britches.”
“Bossy britches, huh? Do you remember you’re not wearing any britches? And think how easy it would be for me to turn you around, bend you over and smack that ass. Then fuck it.”
Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. “You want to fuck my ass?”
“Of course I want to fuck your ass. I want to own every part of you.”
She swallowed heavily. “It’s been a while. Might need to prep that part first.”
“That can be arranged,” he drawled. “I do not want you to ever hide anything from me. Understand? I can’t take care of you properly if you don’t talk to me.”
