“Disagree,” he repeated, his usual teasing tone back in place. “You not only need one, you deserve to be taken care of for once. I’d like to be that for you, if you’d let me.”
“Dylan. You’re not making a lick of sense.”
“You’re right.” His smile turned apologetic and he loosened his hold on her. “I promised myself I wouldn’t rush this, but obviously I’ve gotten ahead of myself.”
“Rushwhat?”
“We can talk about it over dinner.”
Frustration welled in her chest, and it was all she could do not to stomp her foot like a child. “When the hell did you get so stubborn?”
He grinned, that damn dimple flashing again, and now it was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms. “I prefer to think of it as determined.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s fucking annoying.”
“Believe it or not, you’re not the first person to say that to me.”
“Oh, I believe it.”
Laughing, he turned her back around and nudged her out into the hallway. “Let’s finish up those potatoes, and then we can talk.”
Chapter Three
Dylan
Sam was sulking, and it was quite possibly the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Normally, he only caught peeks of her Little side when she got excited about something, like the time she’d come to visit Ethan at school and the three of them had gone to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. When she’d squealed with delight the first time a shark swam past them, he’d fallen more than a little bit in love with her.
That had been almost three years ago, and he’d spent every spare moment in the time between then and now learning how to be the best fucking Daddy anyone had ever had.
Now, watching her at the table as she peeled the last potato, her bottom lip pushed out into just a hint of a pout, he was eager to jump in feet first. But the last thing he wanted to do was rush in and scare her off, so he forced himself to wait until she carried the final batch of potatoes to him.
“Thank you.” He deliberately used the same inflection he had when he’d saidGood girlearlier, and it was rather delightful to watch her eyes widen, to hear the little hitch in her breath.
“Sure. I can finish cutting those up, if you want.”
“I’ve got it.”
“Have it your way,” she mumbled as she shifted gears to check on the pork chops instead.
“That smells incredible, Sam.”
“It’s just a bunch of stuff dumped in the crock pot. Nothing special.”
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to spank or fuck the attitude out of her, but since she probably wouldn’t agree to either option before they had their talk, he forced himself to concentrate on chopping the damn potatoes. When the last chunks were dumped in the giant metal bowl she’d provided, he moved to the sink to wash his hands. “All yours.”
“Thanks.” They switched spots at the counter and he watched as she pulled out the milk and butter and the hand mixer, fascinated by her graceful movements. It was almost hypnotic, the way she moved, and he couldn’t help but wonder how she would look rising over him in the dark as she rode his cock.
Figuring she couldn’t do too much damage with a hand mixer, even if she got distracted, he leaned back against the sink and studied her a few moments longer. “Would you like to know what I wanted to talk about, now?”
“If you feel like it.”
Brat. He had such a weakness for brats. And even more of a weakness for her, specifically. “First, I have a question.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
“Do you know what a Daddy is? Not a father or a dad, but aDaddy.”
Freezing in the act of shoving the beaters into the mixer, she looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Doyouknow what a Daddy is?”
