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She smiled brightly. “Never better. I smashed what was probably a valuable vase. Stepped on it and cut myself. Learned that, for some strange reason, you and Jack are now our guards and escorts instead of Beck and Hux, who were far more pleasant and stable. Well, more stable than you. Jack’s very pleasant. I think he should just be our escort. You can go spread your joy elsewhere.”
Jack? Pleasant?
Dear Lord.
“You don’t get to decide that.” He tried to gentle his voice as she yawned.
The urge to cuddle her to his chest while he fed her by hand filled him. He wanted to wrap her up in blankets and watch over her while she slept.
But he couldn’t do any of those things. For one, she might freak out. Two, she wasn’t his. And three, she might make a complaint about him threatening to spank her and then treating her like a baby.
She might have a stuffed toy, but that didn’t mean that she was a Little.
Although there had been some other definite signs.
She’s not your type.
He wanted someone with self-control. Quiet and obedient. Pleasant. Someone who would entice Jameson back into wanting this sort of relationship.
Jameson had always been into educated, quiet women who dressed impeccably and had perfect manners.
Nothing like this misfit.
So he should just push any thoughts about dominating or wanting to coddle her out of his mind.
It didn’t matter that she made him feel alive. That she challenged and intrigued him.
It didn’t matter that, for the first time in years, Jack paid attention to someone other than him or Jameson for more than five minutes.
Nope. None of that mattered.
“Oh, and I embarrassed myself by gaping at Jameson like he’s some sort of rock star. Thank God I didn’t ask for his autograph. And then there are the last twenty minutes.” She groaned, looking pained.
Ian felt terrible because he could have made things easier on her rather than threatening to spank her.
“Hey, listen to me. The vase doesn’t matter. Your foot will heal if you take care of yourself. And you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
She gave him a skeptical look but nodded.
“Now, let’s get your trousers off so you can pee, and then I’ll put you to bed.”
She groaned. “You are not pulling my trousers down or putting me to bed. Get out.”
He frowned. “Little Misfit?—”
“Nope. Nuh-uh. I have reached my limit for the day. Out!”
“You need help.”
“I can use the toilet on my own. Been doing that since I was a toddler. And if I need to move around, I can hop. Out.”
He scowled. But he didn’t really have a leg to stand on and he knew it.
“Fine, but if you fall over and hurt yourself, you’re in trouble.”
“You know, you might want to make a recording of yourself and play it back. Or better yet, take it to your therapy session. That might work better. Out!”
With a grumble, he left the bathroom. He didn’t like it. He wanted to wait in her bedroom in case she needed him.
