“One glass, and then you’re done for the night.”
“Whatever.” She was being a brat, and she knew it, but being ordered around by a man young enough to be her son was turning out to be more grating than she’d expected. Or maybe it was just because she was still so furious with him.
“You are pushing your luck, little girl. Keep that attitude in check or you’ll find out exactly what I know about being a Daddy.”
She hated herself, and him, for the flash of aching need between her thighs at the threat. Pouring herself a generous glass of wine, she turned back to face him, making sure to keep her shirt closed tightly in front of her. “You said you wanted to explain, so explain.”
“I wasn’t snooping. I want that out in the open. As far as I knew, the only thing behind that door was your office.”
“You think that absolves you of violating my trust? The fact that I kept it locked should have been enough for you to stay the fuck out.”
Again with that flash in his eyes, this time accompanied by a muscle jumping in his jaw. “It was. The day I discovered yourplayroom, it was completely by accident. I was up early one day—well, that’s not entirely truthful.” A splash of red appeared on his cheeks as he ran a hand through his hair. And damned if she didn’t want to do the same, even as pissed as she was. The thought of sinking her fingers into those thick, soft locks while he…
Right. She was supposed to be mad, not fantasizing about holding onto his hair while he ate her out on her couch.
“I set my alarm early one Saturday, so I could be up before Ethan and have some time with you all to myself. It was the second time I’d spent the holidays with you, so I pretty much had your routine memorized. But you deviated from the routine.”
Warmth pooled in her belly at the knowledge he’d cared enough to learn her routines. Or maybe that was the wine.
Yeah, definitely just the wine.
Either way, she wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. “So it’s somehow my fault you broke into my room?”
“I didn’t say that. You weren’t home, but I didn’t realize that. When I didn’t find you on the couch pretending to not watch the cartoons you always say you’re playing for ‘background noise’, I checked your office. I knocked first, then tried the door. You must have forgotten to lock it the night before or something, because it opened right up.”
“Oh.” That… actually made more sense than she wanted it to.
“Yeah. I closed the door as soon as I realized it wasn’t actually your office, but, well…”
“You can’t unsee what’s been seen.”
“Exactly.”
Well now she felt like a complete ass for jumping to conclusions. Not to mention cussing him out over it.
Embarrassment crept in, smothering all the other emotions she’d been clinging to during his explanation. “I guess I owe you an apology.”
“You do. But I owe you one, as well. I should have told you sooner rather than dropping it on you like that. At the very least I should have waited until our…emotionsweren’t running quite so high.”
“Apology accepted. I’m sorry I freaked out and cussed at you.” Swirling her wine, she peeked up at him, one question still worrying at her. “Does Ethan know?”
“No, baby. I haven’t told him a single thing. Not about your playroom, or about that being what drove me to learn everything I could about Littles and Daddies so I could be everything you needed.”
Fucking hell. How was she supposed to keep this casual when he went around saying shit like that? “What if I’m not a Little? What if I’m just some weirdo who likes stuffed animals?”
A slow, wicked smile curved his lips as he plucked the wine glass from her hand and set it on the counter. Placing his hands on her hips, he backed her up until the edge of the granite pressed into her back. “And what if you’re just a naughty Little girl still trying to keep secrets from her Daddy?”
Swallowing hard, she forced herself to keep her gaze locked on his. “That would be very naughty of me.”
“It would be. And what happens to naughty girls who keep secrets and use naughty words, Samantha?”
“Th-They get spanked?”
“Yes. Yes, they do.”
Chapter Eight
Sam
