I know which one I wanted to believe, so maybe Iwasthe fool. “Then go on now,” I said, determined not to dwell on it. “Tell me your name.”
He gave me another shy smile. “It’s Jack?”
“Jack,” I repeated, trying it on. His voice had risen at the end, something my years as an attorney had taught me to distrust.
People gave away so much with their tone of voice, their body language. It was why Jack had sucked me in so fast. He wasgood… good enough that I gave myself permission to assume it was the truth, to treat the uncertainty in his answer as nothing more than a sign of how desperate he was to please me.
Jack must have thought I was doubting it though, because—still holding onto my wrist with both hands, as if I was his anchor and he was loath to let go—he rushed to add, “I mean, it’s actually John? If you really want myrealname. It’s John Patrick Healy? But I’ve always just been called Jack, because I guess calling people named John, ‘Jack’ is a thing? Like, a nickname? It’s really never made sense to me, though, because they don’t evensoundalike… well, besides the J part, I guess.”
He started to deflate a little, his voice slowing down as his blush deepened and his voice dropped to a whisper, as if he’d just realized what a torrent of uncensored words he’d let loose.
“But you could… could call me John, if you’d like to use myrealreal name? Or anything, really. You can call me whatever you want.” He bit his lip, then blurted out, “But John might be hard for me to remember, but… but I’ll try? It’s just that I’m so used to Jack.”
Something dangerous started happening to my heart. Although hell, maybe that had started earlier, when he’d let me feed him.
I ran my thumb over his lips, searching for traces of chocolate and wanting him so badly I suddenly ached with it. Wanting him to bemine.
“Jack is perfect, sweetheart,” I said, my voice husky and low.
“Okay. That’s, um, that will be easy, then. But ‘sweetheart’ is really nice, too.” He blushed. “If you want, I mean.”
I laughed, falling just a little bit in love despite my best intentions. A problem I’d deal with later. For now, Jackwasmine, and I wasn’t going to waste another minute of the time I had with him not enjoying that fact to the fullest. I ran my hand over his silky hair, then cupped his face.
“What do you want me to call you?” he asked, leaning his cheek into my hand with another shy smile. “You never said.”
I really was being a fool, and the foolish part was ever thinking I could resist him.
Time to go all in.
“Call me Daddy, sweet boy. That’s what I want to hear from you.”
His eyes went wide, and the beautifully needy sound he made, thelongingthat lit up his face, sealed my fate. Jack wasn’t just perfect. He was what I’d always been waiting for.
“Say it, sweetheart,” I said as his hands came up to hold mine against his face. “Who am I?”
“Daddy,” Jack whispered obediently. Reverently. Almost like it was a prayer.
No,thatsealed it. I was Jack’s Daddy. He was my boy.
At least for tonight.
4
JACK
Daddy.I had no idea why saying it felt so good, soright, but there was no denying that the minute that word left my mouth, something inside me settled. Not that the client,Daddy, meant it to be real, of course, but even the chance to feel this way just for a moment—calm and safe inside, instead of so anxious and scared like I usually was all the time—was a million times better than any of the horrible ways I’d imagined this night might end up going.
And the best part was that if he wanted me to call him Daddy, it probably meant he wanted me to stay, right?
“Am I staying, then?” I blurted out. But then I realized what I’d done and cringed away from him.
One thing Max had made sure I’d learned good and well during the very first week I’d been with him was not to push him or question him, notever. If I needed to know what he wanted, I’d be told… and when Iwastold, I’d learned fast that I’d better hurry up and do it and pretend I liked it, or it would go even worse.
I never had learned to pretend very well, though.
A shudder went through me before I could help it, because I was pretty sure Max had liked it even better when he’d knownIdidn’tlike it, but I didn’t want to think about that now, so I stopped. I also looked down fast, wrenching my eyes away from Daddy’s dark gaze—warm, chocolatey-brown eyes with tiny flecks of gold, eyes that had looked sonice, even when he’d been blowing hot and cold earlier—because I’d gone and messed up again and I didn’t want to see it if... I meanwhenthe way he looked at me changed.
And if it turned out hewasjust like Max, I didn’t want to see that, either.
