I can't breathe.
Can't think.
Did Tyler Reid, the man I've been fantasizing about for months, just tell me he's a Daddy Dom?
"Chloe. Breathe."
I suck in air. "Sorry. I'm just—this is a lot."
"I know. And we can slow down. We don't have to talk about this if you're not ready."
"No, I want to. I just—" I take another breath. "I didn't expect you to be so open about it. Most people aren't."
"Most people aren't looking for what I'm looking for. But if you and I are going to explore this—whatever this is—I need to be honest about who I am."
"And you're a Daddy Dom."
"Yes."
"And you think I'm a Little."
"I think you might be. But only you can answer that for sure." He squeezes my hand. "Tell me what you know about it. What you've read or thought about."
I hesitate. This feels vulnerable. Exposing. But something in his eyes makes me feel safe.
"I've read about it. In books mostly. The Naughty Little Girls Book Club—we read a lot of Daddy Dom romances. And all of the girls in the group are Littles. We talk about it. The ones who have found their Daddies tell us how freeing it is to have someone who sees that side of them."
"And you want that?"
"I think so. I've always felt like I'm too much for people. Too childish. Too enthusiastic about silly things. Too needy." My voice cracks. "Like I have to hide parts of myself to be taken seriously."
"What parts?"
"The part that wants to watch cartoons on Saturday mornings. The part that collects stuffed animals because they make me feel safe. The part that still gets excited about things like rainbow sprinkles and stickers and dino nuggies and—" I stop. "See? I'm doing it again. Being too much."
"Chloe." His voice is firm. "Look at me."
I meet his eyes.
"You're not too much. You're not childish. You're someone who knows what brings you joy and you're not afraid to embrace it. That's not a flaw. That's a gift."
Tears prick my eyes. "Really?"
"Really. And any man who made you feel like you need to hide that side of yourself was an idiot who didn't deserve you."
A tear spills over. Then another.
"Hey, hey. No crying." But he's smiling softly. "Unless they're happy tears?"
"They're confused tears. I came here thinking this was a thank you dinner and you're telling me everything I've secretly wanted to hear for years."
"Good. Then I'm doing this right." He hands me a napkin. "Here's what I'm thinking. We have dinner. We talk. We get to know each other like normal people on a normal date. Then, if you're interested, we explore this other thing. The dynamic. See if it fits for both of us."
"What if I'm not good at it?"
"There's no good or bad. There's just what works for us." His eyes are steady on mine. "But I need to know you're interested. That this is something you want to explore."
"I am. I do." The words rush out. "I've wanted this for so long but I was scared. Scared no one would understand. Scared I'd be judged or rejected or?—"
