“You’re going to stand next to my easel and face the boring view,” I answer dryly. “Back to the group. No talking to anyone. Five minutes.”
He snorts. “And if Idon’t?”
To his right, James gasps in horror. They’re a sweet Middle who, I’ve gathered, is a bit of a people pleaser. Their Daddy, Ed, rubs their back. I keep my eyes locked on Benji’s, a thrill of something undefinable running up my spine. “What do you think will happen?”
He shrugs. “Nothing. You’re not my Daddy.”
“You’re lucky I’m not,” I inform him, “because I’d have you over my lap spanking you for that sass. In front of everyone.”
His pupils dilate and he shifts on his feet.
He likes that idea.
But I’ve made the same mistake as Sarah did, and I know before he opens his mouth that he’s going to push my boundaries.
“That’s big talk for a glorified babysitter.”
My heartrate picks up, adrenaline and excitement sparking. That’s dangerous. Forcing myself to be as stern as possible, my voice drops into my best final warning Daddy tone. “That’s ten minutes now.”
He glances at his watch. “There’s only like ten minutes left before we switch activities.”
“Benjamin.” The amusement in his pretty blue eyes darkens into arousal, even if he’s also surprised enough to go silent. I point towards my easel. “Time out. Now.”
He slams his paintbrush down on his tray and stomps over to my easel, crossing his arms and turning his back on the group with a loud, irritated huff. The rest of the group murmurs among themselves, but when I turn to Sarah and Jane and ask questions about which colors they chose and what their favorite parts of their painting is, the attention shifts away from the bratty boy I’m still keeping half an eye on.
After giving him a couple of minutes to cool off, I turn my attention back on him fully, only to find him peeking over his shoulder. He quickly averts his gaze to the lake view again, but I’m not going to let the boundary-pushing slide.
“Did I say you could look at the group?” I ask as I come to stop in front of him.
Benji runs his tongue over his teeth slowly before he shrugs.
Whoisthis Boy?
Most of the other Littles and Middles at this camp have been sweet as pie, but this one is turning out to be super feisty.
“Benji,” I prompt, “did I say you could look at the group, or did I tell you to face away for your time-out?”
“Face away,” he grumbles.
“And did you follow that instruction?”
His petulant expression twists again. “No.”
“Okay, so we’re going to add another minute of time-out.”
He glowers at me.
However, a moment later, his eyes seem to light with a new kind of resolve, and he straightens his shoulders and widens his stance. I have no idea what he’s plotting until the sound registers. The hiss and patter of liquid against fabric is unmistakable.
Glancing down, it’s also impossible to miss the dark stain spreading over the front of his tan-colored cargo shorts, the puddle forming at his feet, or the trickle of liquid running down the inside of his thigh.
Holy shit, I reflexively suck in a sharp breath, my heartrate increasing,he’s doing this on purpose.
And his little show is turning me on.
Fuck.
Chapter Four
