“Okay.”
When he holds out a hand, I take it and let him lead me through the house. He shows me every room on the first floor, all of which are large, bright, and luxurious. Except the media room. That room shocks me. It’s totally dark with a giant television. Daddy says we can watch a movie in there after dinner if there’s still time.
Next, he leads me upstairs. The guest rooms are just as opulent as everything else, and then Daddy leads me into the master bedroom. I giggle when I see his huge bed that’s not only long and wide but high off the floor.
I look around. “How many closets do you need?” I ask, shocked to see four doors leading off the room, and that’s not counting the double-door entrance.
Daddy wraps an arm around me from behind and points to the first door on the left. “That’s the bathroom.” He switches his finger to the other side of the room next. “Those are his-and-hers closets. I’ve already ordered some things to put in yours.”
“Mine?” My voice squeaks. Is he serious?
“Yes. Eventually, you’ll believe me that you’re mine in every way. You’ll need a closet, Little one. One side can be for your adult clothes, the other side can be for your Little dresses and things.”
I look back toward the door he didn’t mention next to the bathroom. “What’s in there?”
He releases me. “Go look.”
I glance over my shoulder at him as I shuffle across the room. I’m intrigued. When I open it, I find a totally empty room. It’s not huge, but it’s bigger than the bedroom I have at my house. It has two windows that overlook the back yard. The floor is hardwood. But that’s all I see. Not one piece of furniture is inside. “What’s it for?”
“It’s a nursery. A place for one very special girl to escape to when she’s feeling Little.”
I gasp. My heart races as I spin around.
He comes closer. “What do you think? What color should we paint it? Pink? Purple? Orange? Red? Green?”
I chuckle, because he’s being silly. He knows I like blue better than any color in the world, but he can’t seriously be thinking about painting this room for me. We just started dating last night.
He lurches forward, grabs me around the waist, and lifts me off the floor.
I wrap my legs around his waist on instinct and cling to his neck.
“It’s yours, Sophia. I know it in my heart. I’ve never been so certain of anything in my life. The painters are coming tomorrow morning to paint it a soft blue. I’ll start filling it with furniture tomorrow afternoon.”
I stare into his eyes. He’s serious. “What if you get tired of me?”
“That will never happen. Do you think you’ll get tired of me?”
I shake my head so hard my ponytail flies around. “That’s not a possibility.” It’s him I worry about.
“Why the serious expression, Sophia?”
I lower my hands to his collar and play with it absently while I think. “How can you be sure?” I murmur.
“I don’t know, Baby girl. I can’t explain it. I just know. I’ve known for a while. I’ve watched you play with the other Littles at the Dungeon for months. All that time, I was gradually falling harder for you. As soon as you came down the stairs in Theo’s house last night, dressed like a princess, any doubt I had fled. I knew you were mine.”
“Layla has a nursery,” I mumble, looking around. “She even has a crib and a changing table.”
“I’ve ordered those things for you, too, Little one.”
“But what if I don’t like to play that young?”
He shrugs. “You’ll always have options.”
“You’re not going to force me, are you?” I stiffen, worrying that deep inside, Tate really wants a Little who can be really regressed. I’m not sure I can be that Little.
He shakes his head. “No, Baby girl. Never. I told you I don’t care what age range you enjoy most. The only thing that matters is figuring it out and then doing whatever you need to make it perfect for you. Some Littles like to switch around at different times. You might like to hover at an older age on work nights and play younger on your days off when you don’t have to worry about facing people and pulling out of your regression abruptly.”
I lean my chest against his, wrap my arms around his neck, and hold on tight while he sways in the middle of the room. Everything about Tate feels so right. I hope it’s real.
