Page 132 of Little Sunshine

“Live and fucking die to give you every-damn-thing, and it still won’t come close to what you can give if you choose to, Camila.”

“How can that be true? I have literally nothing.” I flung a hand out toward the grandeur of his home. “What could I give you that you don’t already have?”

“Your honesty. Your laughter and sweet smiles. Your stubborn as shit attitude. Your time. Your desire. Your body. Your trust. Your submission.”

I might not have seen the value in any of that, but they were at least easy to offer him.

Right up until the last two.

In a short time, I already trusted him more than I’d ever trusted anyone, but that wasn’t saying much. And with the other thing…

“I don’t think I can give you my submission,” I admitted, hoping that didn’t automatically spell the end before anything really began. “I can’t give it to anyone because I don’t think I have it. Like you said, I’m stubborn.”

“Which is what will make it that much sweeter every time you submit or listen or follow a rule. Because I know it’s not easy. That you’re doing it for me. Because you trust me.”

“There are rules?”

I’d barely had any actual rules when I was a kid, outside of shut up, stay out of the way, and don’t talk to cops, teachers, or bill collectors. And never, ever call her Mom in front of a man.

Any chores I had were by choice because I hadn’t wanted to live in Veronica’s filth.

I worked to suppress a tremble of apprehension as my imagination ran wild with the possibilities.

And none of them were good since my points of reference were male-centric porn and online horror stories of abuse passed off as BDSM.

“Yeah, sunshine, there will be rules.” He leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the couch, like we were talking about the weather or a movie. “Let’s start with the one that’ll be hardest for you.”

“Okay,” I drawled.

“If something bothers you, tell me immediately. No lies. No downplaying. And sure as hell no letting shit fester until you run from me. If you would’ve asked me why I wanted you with me at Sunrise, it would’ve saved you pain.” He dropped his eyes to my ass before raising a brow. “A lot of it.”

“You’re right, that will be hard,” I admitted. “I’m not good with stuff like that.”

“That’s okay, I’m patient.” I already didn’t like his smirk even before he added, “I’ll happily punish you however many times it takes.”

That should’ve been a terrifying threat. But down to my soul, I knew it came from a place of caring.

Not that I was anxious to sign up for another spanking—caring or not—but I couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread through me.

Ash twisted a finger in my hair and tugged to get my attention. “I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been through that you’ve convinced yourself you’re an imposition. I’m not gonna make it a rule you have to tell me—yet—but I hope you will when you’re ready. In the meantime, I’m gonna work to undo those knots.” His lip quirked. “Or replace them with my own. And that requires you to be honest when something is wrong.”

“So you can tell me to get over it or deal with it?” I shot back.

“Yeah, sometimes,” he said, completely unrepentant. “I’m used to giving orders and having them followed.” My insecurities didn’t even have the chance to flare up before he clarified. “At work. It doesn’t occur to me to stop and explain myself. I’ll try to be mindful of that while you’re still getting used to me. Not saying I’ll bend to what you want. Actually, I pretty much guarantee I won’t. But I can share my reasoning, even if it’s as simple as I want to buy you shit.”

“But I don’t need anything.”

I prepared for another get used to it that never came.

“You agree to this”—he gestured back and forth between us—“there’re gonna be a lot of changes in your life. One is that it’s no longer about the bare minimum. You won’t have to settle for only what you need.”

That was such a bizarre concept. I couldn’t even picture what that would be like beyond what he’d already shown me.

And he wasn’t done.

“I want to do it. It makes me hard to see you wear the clothes I bought or eat the food I made. It makes me happy to take care of you. Fuck knows you need it.”

The way he said it didn’t sound like an insult, but that was exactly how my pride took it. As if I was incapable of caring for myself.

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