Page 30 of Merry Mischief List
I allow my eyes to drink him in for a moment longer than I should. “Night, Coach.”
He shuts the door behind him, and I don’t move as the sound of his footsteps on the stairs echoes through the house. Throwing myself on the bed, I’m engulfed by the scent of fresh cotton and laundry detergent.
As pleasant as it smells, I’d rather be surrounded by his scent.
Somehow James Porter is making his way to the top of my Christmas list. But I’ve been such a naughty girl this year…Maybe Santa could be convinced to bring me cock instead of coal.
* * *
Porter stands in front of the stove, preparing what looks like some kind of healthy omelet—considering there’s not a lick of greasy bacon in sight. His cotton T-shirt is tight enough I can admire—er, notice every defined shoulder muscle. He places his hands on his lower back and stretches for what feels like too long for a fit, retired professional athlete.
“Doing okay over there, old man?” I ask.
He spins to face me, spatula in hand. “I’m doing fine, young lady.” He smirks, and I can’t stop my eyes from dropping to his bare feet and wandering up his dark sweatpants all the way back to his warm eyes.
“Young lady?” I hop off the bar stool and walk across the room till we’re mere feet apart.
“Yeah.” He sets the spatula down and crosses his arms over his chest in the commanding way that drives me crazy. “If you’re gonna call me old man, then I’m gonna call you young lady.”
“Careful, Coach. You’re entering Daddy territory.”
His brows furrow. “Did you really just compare me to your dad?”
A light laugh escapes me. “Notmydad. I saiddaddyterritory. You know, like Daddy Dom?”
“Who is Daddy Dom?”
I press my lips together and contemplate him. Do I really believe this fine ass man doesn’t know the difference between a dad and Daddy? Then again, I can’t pass up the opportunity to make Porter squirm.
“It means a man who likes to be in charge in the bedroom, and if his girl doesn’t follow instructions or acts a little stubborn, he’llpunishher.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yep.”
Porter studies me, gaze burning into every inch of my skin, and turns back to the stove. “Be a good girl and grab us some plates, would you?”
My mouth falls open. “You were totally messing with me!” Here I am trying to make him squirm, and he’s soaked my panties with a single phrase.
“Whatever do you mean?” he asks innocently, flipping the omelet.
“You can’t tell me you know the proper usage of the term ‘good girl’ but don’t know what a Daddy Dom is.”
His whiskey eyes find mine. “I suppose I have picked up a few things in myold age.”
After breakfast, we settle in the living room with our cups of coffee.
“So what item should we mark off your list today?” Porter asks, plopping down on the couch beside me. His scent infiltrates my system, and I allow myself only one deep whiff.Why does he have to smell so damn good?I pull out the list from my phone case and unfold it, reading through for the items unmarked.
“How about the triple gumdrop?” I ask, and he chokes on his coffee.
“How about something else?” he says, wiping a drip of liquid off his chin.
“Boooring,” I groan.
“Let’s decorate a Christmas tree,” he suggests. “I never have.”
“What?” I gasp. “How have you never decorated a Christmas tree?”
