Page 36 of Obsessed Mr. O’Brian

“Exactly my concern.”

Her chuckle arrows straight to my blue balls. She buttons her top and scooches away from me, but my weight om the mattress tips her closer.

“Toddlers rarely react the way they do without a reason.” She calms Lola by stroking the back of her hand. “We’ll work on the running away separately, but limiting her because of your fear is neither safe nor fair. She’s already dealing with a loss of control during her seizures.” When she turns clear blue eyes to mine, my uncertainty melts away. “Show her you trust her even when it’s scary,” she challenges.

I nod.

Lola kicks and squirms. I drop to an elbow in front of her and rest my fingertips on the side of her face to meet her eyes.

Her flushed cheeks and angry glare warn of an impending meltdown.

“I’m sorry, baby. I trust you.”

I kiss the top of her head and lift my hand off her back. Millie guides her over the side of the bed, checks her port, then lifts her back to the mattress. Without a word, she teaches Lola how to get off the bed in the safest manner possible, and yet again, I realize she must be an angel.

After Lola completes the task all on her own three times, Millie gives her a hug and kisses her forehead in reward then releases her. Lola turns to me. Her expression falls. Her thumb lifts toward her mouth.

I scoop her up, kiss her nose, cheeks, and forehead, then set her down and smile.

“Good job, baby,” I manage through the thickness in my throat.

She beams up at me. My heart threatens to burst.

Since Millie and I ensured the suite was baby proofed separately and then together when we first arrived yesterday, neither of us move when Lola scampers off for a bit of free play.

I study the organized chaos within the suite. Millie outdid herself. She not only managed to bring all of Lola’s basics, she also brought extra clothes to cover any type of situation, ensured my daughter had an engaging activity no matter the time of day, and coordinated a delivery of items I didn’t have or was in low stock of at home to be delivered to the hotel before we arrived. The attention to detail and excess of options at our fingertips makes the suite feel almost as comfortable as home.

My eyes catch on the lone suitcase tucked into the corner of the closet. About as nondescript as a black hardshell case can be, Millie’s sole piece of baggage is so unlike the entourage Regina demanded we take everywhere I’m not sure how to reconcile the difference.

“Is that all you brought?”

Millie stiffens and peels her eyes off my daughter.

“What?”

I tilt my chin toward the closet.

“Did you only bring one suitcase?” I ask again.

She straightens her collar with a pained wince and tucks her hair behind her ear before nodding.

“It’s all I’ve ever needed.”

An idea forms.

The thought of sneaking a few minutes alone with her in a changing room has me fully hard. I clear my throat and adjust the front of my sweats.

“Packing light may be a virtue in some cases, but not this one. Get up. We’re going shopping,” I say.

Lola darts across the room with her thumb in her mouth and a look of pure terror on her face. She dives into Millie’s lap. Millie accepts her weight and closes her arms around the toddler with only a slight wince. I swallow the dismay building in my throat.

“What’s wrong, lovie?” Millie asks Lola.

“My fault,” I grind out. “I said the evil word. She hates shopping.”

Millie’s brows lift in surprise and concern before she schools her features and nods.

“Then I’m not going shopping today. I’m going exploring instead,” Millie declares.