She gasps. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m being realistic. It was hard for me to stay away from you for all this time. I did so for a few reasons. One of those is because you were so very young when I met you. You still are, but eighteen is a lot younger than twenty-two. I had no idea how well you knew your mind. Girls your age sometimes think they’re Little or dabble in it, but when push comes to shove, they realize it’s not for them. It’s fun for a while, and they move on.”
“I’ve known definitively that I’m Little for six years. Probably younger if I could have put a name to it. I’m not dabbling in anything,” she defends.
“I know you’re not, Baby girl. I figured that out along the way. But there’s more. Being with me is more than simply knowing you’re Little. I’m at least as bossy as Jameson. Not all Littles want or need a super-dominant Daddy. I had no way of knowing if you would enjoy that sort of dynamic. I still can’t be sure. I’m a fish out of water here, praying you’re going to like what I have to offer once you get to know me outside of college.”
She holds my gaze for a long time. “I think I should dye my hair.”
I chuckle. “Uh, okay. Where did that come from?” She never ceases to shock me.
“I don’t think the goth thing works for me. I want to get some dye that’s my natural color so it can grow out without everyone watching a black line move down my head.”
I kiss her forehead. “We’ll order some today.”
She snuggles into me again, tucking her head against my shoulder. I could hold her like this for the rest of the day if we didn’t need to eat or pee.
After a long time, she speaks again. “I already know you’re the sort of Daddy I want, Camden. Even though you think I don’t know you, I do. I may not have lived under your dominance, but you showed me how bossy you could be every time I pulled one of my ridiculous stunts in your office. And the look on your face… I may have laughed, but I felt the weight of dominance.”
I smile against her head.
“Plus, you’re friends with Jameson, and the two of you are very close. I’ve seen that man in action. He’s intense. I have to assume you are, too.”
“You really put him through the wringer a few times, naughty girl. Poor Natasha—so sweet and submissive—and she makes friends with a naughty wannabe Middle, who talks her into staying out past curfew, buys her coffee, and convinces her to lie when class is canceled. Tsk tsk.”
“Hey… For the record, I don’t think I’m a Middle. That was just part of my bratty goth phase. And those shenanigans were all to get Jameson’s attention. The man was never going to fully Daddy Natasha if someone didn’t force his hand.”
“Yeah, it was a good ploy. I’ll give you that. But as soon as you’re healthy, I assure you I will introduce you to a side of me you have not met yet.”
“Looking forward to it,” she murmurs before she goes quiet again.
I’m okay with quiet, especially while I’m holding her in my lap, but I’m worried about her. This conversation was very normal, but I suspect as soon as I step away, she will retreat into herself again. I don’t like it.
I’m going to need to stay on top of her to make sure she’s not suffering from PTSD.
Chapter 8
Simone
* * *
“Oh my God, you were not kidding,” Natasha says as soon as the men leave us alone.
It’s been six days since my attack. Natasha and Jameson got home late last night. Apparently, she nagged him all morning until he brought her over to see me.
Camden often surprises me with his culinary skills, but the lunch spread he made for us endears me to him on a new level. Little food. Chicken nuggets, pizza bagels, and french fries.
Natasha and I are at the kitchen table with our lunch, and she’s wincing hard as she examines my face. “Daddy told me not to say anything because it would hurt your feelings, but I know you better than that.” She leans forward to look out the windows. “That fucker really punched you hard.”
I find myself giggling, and it feels good. Not natural, but good. “It cracks me up that you can’t cuss in front of Jameson.”
“Are you saying Camden lets you cuss?” She lifts a brow.
I shrug. “I don’t know yet. I’ve cussed plenty in the past week, but it’s hard to say if he would let that fly under normal circumstances. He’s giving me a pass until I’m healed.”
“Have you been sleeping in his bed every night?” she asks before popping a nugget into her mouth.
“Yes. But he doesn’t touch me sexually. He’s afraid he’ll hurt me.”
