“I don’t think you can beat a woman if you don’t even know her name. It’s bad manners.”
It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to burst out laughing at that. “Bad manners, huh?”
“Yes. Horrible, really. Your mama would be ashamed.”
An old, familiar ache thrums in my chest. “She probably would, if she was still alive.”
Sympathy warms the blue of her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right, little one. You couldn’t have known.”
Her gaze roams my face for several long seconds. “Melanie. My name is Melanie.”
“Melanie,” I repeat, rolling the name around on my tongue. “A pretty name for a pretty Little girl.”
Just like when I called her pretty earlier, an adorable blush steals across her cheeks. My Little girl enjoys being praised, no matter how she might pretend otherwise.
But even as she blushes, I can see the calculation brewing in her eyes. “I gave you my name. Now you give me something.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to go home.” Tears pool on her lashes, and for a moment I almost feel guilty I can’t give her the one thing she wants. Even if I was inclined to—which I am not—the storm alone would keep her trapped here with us for at least a week, possibly longer.
“I’m sorry, Melanie, but no. That’s just not possible, at least not until the roads are cleared.”
“Then I want your word that you won’t hurt me.”
A tricky promise, but one I’m willing to work with. “I promise you that while you are here with me, no harm will come to you at my hands or the hands of anyone in this house.”
Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “You promise?”
Holding up one hand with my littlest finger sticking out, I nod solemnly. “Pinkie-swear.”
She hesitates for a long moment before stepping forward to hook her finger with mine. An electric shock races through my veins as that simple touch, unlike anything I’ve felt with any other woman before her.
And I know in that moment I made the right call, no matter what my siblings think.
Melanie is my Little girl. And I have no intention of ever letting her go.
CHAPTER 5
MELANIE
Maybe it’s ridiculous of me, but relief floods my system as my pinky finger hooks with his. Relief, followed quickly by a jolt of electricity so sharp it nearly makes me gasp. Not from static or any such banal thing, but pure, unadulterated desire.
What the fuck iswrongwith me?
Before I can give that question any more consideration, I find myself pulled forward, over the giant’s left knee so that my ass is pointed straight at the ceiling and I’m staring down at the gleaming hardwood beneath me. It takes a moment for my brain to comprehend what’s happening, but when it does, I come alive, kicking and wriggling for all I’m worth.
“Hey! You said you wouldn’t hurt me!”
A breeze wafts over my skin as my skirts are once again flipped up and all my most private places are exposed to this complete stranger. “No, I promised no harm would come to you. A spanking is not harm, it’s simply a tool to make sure Little girls do as they’re told.”
“That’s a distinction without a difference!”
“Disagree. It’s a very important difference, actually.” His large, rough hand cups my ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “Harmwould be letting you run outside in the snow where you could lose a few fingers, or worse, to frostbite, assuming we could find you at all before the storm took you. Trust me when I tell you the pain of this spanking is a small price to pay for keeping all your appendages where they belong.”
I don’t want him to have a point, but dammit, he’s right. And what’s worse is I know better. I was raised in these mountains, though in an area not quite as remote as this cabin appears to be, and I know how quickly someone can get disoriented in the middle of a blizzard. Add onto that the fact that I have no idea where I am, or how close the next house or town might be, and the odds are very, very good I would have died out there if he hadn’t come after me.
