Well, it definitely wasn’t a ‘fuck you’.
Dylan:
Apology accepted. How about I order us a pizza and we can watch a movie or something?
Sam:
What are you up to, Dylan?
Dylan:
What? A guy can’t do something nice for the girl he likes?
Sam:
I’m not a girl, I’m a forty-year-old woman. I can buy my own pizza, thank you very much.
He’d expected her to be stubborn, but damn if it didn’t make his palm itch all the same.
Dylan:
Then you can buy. But I get to pick the movie.
It took nearly ten minutes for her to answer again, long enough he was already halfway back to his new boss’s office before his phone buzzed again.
Sam:
Fine. You can buy me a damn pizza. But I’m warning you now, I’m not going to be good company.
Fine by him. He loved a good challenge.
Chapter Five
Sam
It rained the whole way home, which did nothing to improve her mood. Apparently, it was just One of Those Days and literally nothing short of a strong drink and hiding away under the covers was going to fix it.
Only, she couldn’t even do that without being rude, because Dylan was there. If he knew what was good for him, he’d taken the hint during their text exchange earlier and he would leave her the fuck alone.
She wasn’t in the mood to deal with him and his delusions of Daddy Dom grandeur.
But it was clear the moment she stepped through the front door that she wasn’t going to get her way, at least not without a fight.
Fuck.
The familiar scent of tomato sauce and bubbling hot cheese had her mouth watering as she kicked off her shoes by the front door. Okay, so pizza had been a good call. That didn’t mean anything.
And finding a gorgeous man in her kitchen, still dressed in his work clothes with his sleeves rolled to the elbows and the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone wasn’t all that bad either. Leaning against the doorframe, she watched as he moved around the room, sleek and surprisingly graceful.
Then he spotted her, and the smile that lit his face was joy so pure it couldn’t be faked. How the hell was she supposed to stand firm when he looked at her like she was the fucking sun, moon, and stars?
Figuring nobody was that damn strong, she turned on her heel and headed for her bedroom, deliberately ignoring the pull in the opposite direction. Toward her Little room and Mr. Snuggles.
No matter how crappy she was feeling, she was not about to expose that side of herself. It was bad enough he was so intent on being her Daddy when he had no clue she was actually a Little. He might have his suspicions, but that didn’t mean she had to confirm them for him.
A quick shower to make up for the one she’d missed that morning and a pair of soft leggings and an oversized t-shirt improved her mood marginally.
And, as much as she hated to admit it, so did the giant glass of red wine and slice of pizza holding approximately two pounds of various kinds of meat she found sitting on the coffee table in her living room.
