by Measha Stone
“You don’t need to be afraid of me, Samantha. I won’t—”
“I’m not,” she interjected. “I’m…” she sighed. “I’m embarrassed. I acted like such an idiot. And then…I keep trying to handle things like a grown up. Right? I mean, I’m a grown up. I do adult things all the time. I AM an adult. But sometimes, I just…” She took a deep breath. “It was really wrong what I did. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and you don’t deserve to be treated that way. I pushed you into doing something you probably didn’t want to do, and I’m really sorry for it.”
Ryder took a breath, ready to start responding, but she cut him off before he even started.
“And I completely understand that you’d want me to find somewhere else to stay. I already called a hotel and got a room. Don’t worry about George, I’ll tell him something.” She finally lifted her gaze to his. Her eyes were distant, as though she’d pulled herself away from their conversation to get through it.
She was being terribly hard on herself. For nothing.
He sat down on the couch beside her, draping one arm over the back. “Samantha.” He blew out a breath. “I’m not even sure where to start. You had a lot going on in that beautiful head of yours.”
The blush bloomed, and she bit down on her lower lip.
“First off, I know you’re sorry. And I know you might be a little embarrassed. Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped the gun with the spanking, but you really needed it.”
“I did.” She nodded in agreement. “But—”
“But nothing.” He shook his head to keep her from going off in a rambling tangent again. “You needed it, and I didn’t mind helping you—hell, I wanted to. Aside from cursing at me, you were obviously having trouble getting yourself composed. It happens. Some people need to scream into a pillow, other’s need a bare-assed spanking.” He lifted a shoulder.
“I shouldn’t need a spanking.”
He reached over and ran his thumb along her jawline. “You need what you need, little girl. Fighting who you are never helps. Besides, I liked taking care of you this afternoon.”
She pinched her lips together.
“As for you getting a hotel…” he dragged in a heavy breath, “I won’t stop you, but I don’t want you to.”
“Really?”
He huffed. “Yes, really. I don’t say things just to say them. If I say something, I mean it.” He brushed her hair away from her face. “You really had a shit day.”
“You can curse, but I can’t?” she teased.
He raised a brow. “I’m going to lay this out for you, plain and simple.” He cupped her chin with his hand and stared into her blue eyes, so clear, so open. “If you stay here…and I do want you to stay here…I don’t think I can just be your roommate.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, resting in his hand, not giving any indication she wanted to pull away.
“It means I’d like to be more. If you need help like you did this afternoon, I’d like to step in without stepping out of line,” he said firmly. Pretending to ignore his attraction wasn’t going to work. Not when something as simple as a gentle smile from her made his heart beat in weird patterns.
“I…it’s been a while since I had someone like that,” she said softly.
“For me too. And I’m not saying we jump into anything heavy. When you’re ready for something a bit…well, more, you’ll tell me. We won’t go further than this until you say so.”
“So, if I come storming in throwing a tantrum…” her words trailed off, letting him finish her thought.
“If you behave like that again, I’ll punish you just like I did today. And…little girl…you aren’t going to pretend to be anyone you’re not. If you feel like getting your jammies on and having a coloring party in the living room, you do it. If I catch you trying to be a big girl when your insides don’t want it, you’ll be put over my knee for a much longer, much harder spanking.”
“I—” She pulled back, blinking away the sudden tears. “What about George?”
Ryder laughed. “If he wants to be a little girl, he can do it at his place.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “We can tell him we’ve decided to see each other, or we don’t tell him anything. I’ll let you decide.”
“If we don’t tell him, it would be like lying, right?”
Ryder nodded. “Borderline.”
“I’ll tell him. But let me do it.” She nodded firmly. “I mean, we don’t need to give him any details, right?
“Nope.”
She smiled. “Okay then.”
He captured her face between his hands and pulled her closer, pinning his lips against hers. Her hands wrapped around his neck, and her mouth opened slightly, enough for him to take the kiss deeper—to claim the moment. She would be his. If only for a short time, if only for this moment, she belonged to him.
When he broke the kiss and pulled back to look down at her, he grinned. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks red, and her pupils dilated.
He could sweep her up in his arms and take her to his bedroom right then. The devil knew he wanted to—his cock wasn’t going to get any harder—but it wasn’t going to be like that. Not with Samantha. He wasn’t jumping into bed. He’d wait, give her more time. He promised they’d go slow. Carrying her off to his bed didn’t exactly back that up.
“Now, tell me about the interview,” he said, sinking back into the cushions. He reached over and lifted her onto his lap.
She snuggled into the crook of his neck and played with the collar of his t-shirt.
“I really wanted that job. I had it in my head they’d offer it to me right on the spot. I answered all the questions right. I have the experience, the degree, I would be perfect for it.”
“What makes you think you aren’t going to get it? Sounds like they lined up a bunch of interviews and after they hold them all, they’ll make a decision. That’s what I do when I have spot open on my crew.” He ran his hand over her head, stroking her hair away from her face.
She huffed.
Sammy was back.
“I just wanted it so bad.”
“You have two more interviews this week. Put your energy into those for right now and see what happens. You aren’t counted out yet, you have to be patient.”
She blew out a breath and looked up at him.
“I don’t like waiting.”
He laughed. “I noticed.”
Her stomach growled, and he put his hand on her belly. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
Chapter 10
“You gonna eat that?” Ryder pointed to the tuna sandwich on the paper plate sitting in her lap.
“Sorry. I’m not that hungry.” She leaned forward and put the plate on the coffee table. “You feeling okay?” he asked, his eyes narrowed. The TV was set to the evening news, but Samantha wasn’t listening to it.
“Yeah, perfect.” She hugged her knees to her chest. The day had crept by at a snail’s pace as she’d waited for Ryder to get home from work. She’d gone to another interview at a small branch of the Chicago Public Library but wasn’t hopeful of the position. When she walked out of the interviewer’s office, she’d seen three other candidates waiting for their turns. All of them looked older and more confident than she felt.
“How’d your interview go?” He wiped his napkin across his mouth and dropped it crumpled up onto his empty plate.
“Fine.”
He pushed his plate beside hers and hit the power button on the remote, turning off the television. Scooting back into the corner of the couch, he patted his thighs.
“Come here, Sammy,” he said when she kept right where she was.
She eyed him for a long moment. Was he just being nice to her? He knew about the other side of her. Was he playing into it for her benefit?
She’d been thinking about what he’d said the night before—about wanting more and wanting to help her when she needed it. Is th
at what she really wanted? Or did she want something even deeper?
He’d said while she stayed with him…nothing about afterward. Shouldn’t she get as much out of it as she could with the time she had? It had been so long since she had a real Daddy in her life—someone who saw past the grown woman to the soft, delicate side of her.
“Sammy.” His dark voice drew her out of her own thoughts. She’d been staring at him for too long. She’d made it weird.
“I’m sorry. It was such a long day.” She stretched out on the couch, placing her head in his lap. Strong and secure, simply laying in his lap, put her in a safe bubble. “How was your day?” she asked, derailing the topic.
He blew out a long breath. His hand lightly rested on her head, then began to stroke her hair from her face. Over and over, his warm fingers brushed across her temple and cheek.
“We barely got anywhere today. First day on a project can be a lot of waiting around, especially when it’s a government project. I was glad to get out of there and come home.” His hand paused over her forehead for a brief moment. “Especially since you’re here.”
She tucked her fists beneath her chin and smiled. “I should have made us something better than tuna.”
He laughed.
“I’m not picky, and it’s not your job to feed me, little girl.” He dug his fingers beneath her chin until she started laughing. She shoved his hands away and sat up, tucking her hair behind her ears to see him better.
“I’ll be honest, I hate cooking, but I could have put some pasta together.” She folded her legs beneath her and rested her head against the back of the couch.
“I’ll be honest, I’d rather do the cooking.” He turned so he faced her and rested his head against the back of the couch, mirroring her position.
“Because you like cooking?”
His warm eyes locked her in place. She could easily lose herself in them—in him.
His lips curled softly. Tiny wrinkles formed around his eyes. “No.”
“Because you have food allergies and need to be sure you don’t die?” she asked, hearing the little voice starting to peak through and too tired to shut it down.
The gentle smile broke into a wide grin. “Nope. Not even close.”
“Because you’re a picky eater and you hate vegetables, so you want to be sure no one sneaks them into your dinner?”
He laughed, a loud boisterous sound, eliciting a giggle from her as well.
“I prefer to cook for you because it’s what a Daddy does,” he answered quietly.
Thump.
Her heart fell straight from her chest and bruised her stomach.
“Is that what you are? Or want to be?” she whispered. Afraid speaking louder would break the mood and send her crashing back into the reality that she was on the edge of disaster.
His thumb ran along her bottom lip. “Only when you want that. Until then, I’ll settle for cuddling in front of the news and cooking your dinner.” His hand dropped back to his lap, and just like that, the bubble burst.
He would wait for her.
So, what was she waiting for?
“You want to cook tomorrow?” she asked when the silence stretched too far for her comfort.
“Yep. I’ll cook dinner tomorrow.” He nodded.
Ryder turned the dishwasher on and flipped off the kitchen lights. Samantha had gone to her room a while ago and was probably already asleep. He stood in the hallway, just outside her door, opening and closing his fists. Would checking on her be going too far? Would it be creepy?
They’d had the news playing while they ate, but he hadn’t heard a word of it. Samantha had been too much of a distraction. Hell, he’d been distracted all day by thoughts of her running through his mind. It was a good thing. Thanks to Chicago politics, the renovation the city contracted him to complete came to a standstill. While he hated delays, it had given him time to think about the little girl at home.
A thud came from behind inside, followed by, “Shit.”
He stepped closer.
“Samantha? You okay?” His jaw clenched. He just happened to be passing by her room? That didn’t seem at all stalkerish.
“Yeah. I kicked the damn bed,” she called out.
He bit back a warning about her language. He’d said if she was spiraling, he’d step in, not if she cursed a little. So long as it wasn’t directed at him, he’d have to let it go.
For now.
The door opened, and there she was. Her hair all bundled up in a messy ponytail, her face freshly scrubbed, her sleeping tank clinging to her body. It took what little energy he had left to force his gaze to her face.
“You kicked the bed?” he asked, resting his forearm against the doorjamb.
She lifted her bare foot and pointed to it. “I stubbed my toe on the corner.”
He checked it out.
“Does it hurt?” Would carrying her to the bed and kissing the boo-boo away be too much?
He clenched his teeth to hold himself steady. Until she indicated otherwise, they were just a normal couple getting to know each other while she stayed with him.
She tilted her head. “Of course, it hurts.” She left the door open and hopped back to the bed, sitting on the end. He followed and knelt down in front of her, propping her foot on his knee.
“You don’t need to look.” She tried to pull her foot back, but he held steady.
“It’s a little red.” He ran the tip of his thumb over the blotchy pink spot. “I thought you’d gone to bed already.”
“I got ready for bed. I forgot to turn off the closet light, and I was getting up to do it.” She nodded toward the closet behind him.
“Well, why don’t you get into bed now, and I’ll handle the light.” He ran his hand down her foot, just beneath the fabric of her pajama pants.
She bit down on her bottom lip for a long moment, staring at him as though words were jumping against her lips, trying to get out.
“Sammy?” he asked in a tender voice.
“It hurts,” she whimpered.
His lips tugged into a smile. Of course, it did. He hadn’t made it better yet.
Keeping his eyes fixated on hers, he lifted her foot to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss to her toe. Her pink tongue ran along her lips, and her delicate throat worked as she swallowed back her emotion.
“Better?”
“Much.” She grinned.
“Okay, in bed. I’ll get the closet light.” He placed her foot back down and got to his feet, watching her as she climbed up the bed and wiggled beneath the quilt. Once he took care of the light, he rounded the bed.
“Your alarm set for tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yep.” She gave an exaggerated nod.
“Okay. Off to sleep.” He clicked off the lamp on the nightstand. Leaning forward with his hands on the mattress, he brushed his lips across hers. Not satisfied, he took her mouth in a deep kiss. Her lips parted for him without hesitance, and her tongue danced to the melody he set.
When he pulled back, a deep sigh escaped her, and he smiled into the darkened room.
“Good night, Sammy,” he whispered, then placed one more kiss to the very tip of her nose.
“Ryder?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“Yeah, Sammy?”
“Do you think…I mean…if you’re okay with it…could I call you…Daddy?” Her face flushed red, and her gaze lowered.
Lifting her chin with his knuckles, he waited until her eyes met his.
“I was hoping you would. Now, go to sleep.” He tapped her chin with his forefinger. “Goodnight, Sammy,” he said again.
“Night, Daddy,” she whispered.
He left her to sleep, closing the door quietly behind him as he stepped back into the hallway.
Warmth ran through his veins as he made his way back to his own room. The door to the small part of his heart he’d walled off long ago started to creep open. Tucking her into bed wasn’t about a play session. It was so much more. And maybe, more
was exactly what he needed.
Chapter 11
Samantha’s phone danced on the nightstand, waking her. She fumbled for it without opening her eyes. It wasn’t quite time to wake up yet.
“Hello?” she muttered into the phone once she got it to her ear.
“Sam?”
“Yeah?” She pulled the pillow over her face. If she opened her eyes, it would block out any light.
“It’s Anderson.”
Her eyes opened, and the pillow fell away.
“Anderson?” She pulled the phone back to look at the time, squinting at the bright light from the screen. “It’s not even five in the morning? What’s wrong?”
“Randall was released late last night. I just found out.”
She was awake.
Completely, fully awake.
Sitting up, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “How can that be? I thought he had to go to a parole hearing first.”
“Usually, yes. But Randall’s uncle has some strong ties in the system. It was all very quiet. They held a meeting behind closed doors—no attorneys, no witnesses, nothing. Just a quick vote, and he got his walking papers.”
She folded her legs and rested her elbow on her knee. “Okay…well, not okay, but…what now? What happens? That’s it? He’s out?”
After everything that man put her through, did to her, threatened her with, he walks free?
“Nothing, Sam. I can’t stop a parole that’s already been granted. What we can do is make sure you’re protected. I’ll get with Paul and George and we can see what can be done.”
“Done about what? Anderson, he hasn’t so much as called or emailed. If he’s got his freedom, I doubt he’ll mess that up by coming to Chicago. Besides, he doesn’t even know where I am.” At least she didn’t think he did. Her ex-boyfriend, Randall, never showed much interest in anything outside of his world, and she’d never talked to him about George. They hadn’t dated long enough for families to be introduced.