Page 43 of Keeping Katie

“That’s my good girl.”

A shiver runs down my spine right to my pussy. Good girl. I like being his good girl.

“I want you to stay with me tonight,” he says. “What do you need from your apartment?”

My eyes nearly pop right out of the sockets. No way is he going to my apartment to rummage through my drawers. I’d be mortified if he found my footie pajamas. Or Thor.

“Oh, um, I’ll run home after work and grab some stuff,” I blurt out.

He stares at me as the corners of his lips slowly slide into a smile. “Afraid I might see your little pink vibrator, baby? Daddy already saw it when you were in the bathroom.”

When my mouth drops open, he chuckles. “I wanted to know more about my girl.”

“You looked in my drawers?”

He shrugs. “If you’re expecting an apology, I’m not giving one. When it comes to you, I have no boundaries.”

The black Escalade I’ve seen over the past week comes to mind. No. There’s no way that was him. Stalking is over the top. Even if the idea of it makes me feel hot all over. God, I need help.

“I’ll go get some stuff after work and then come over,” I reply.

“Okay, baby. If you insist. Bring the vibrator, though. And several changes of clothes.”

Cocking my head, I scrunch my face. “You said you wanted me to stay the night. Why do I need more than one change of clothes?”

That panty-melting smirk appears on his face again, and he leans down to brush his lips over mine. “Because once I have you under my roof, I probably won’t ever let you leave again.”

Somehow, that feels more like a promise than a threat. I laugh anyway because, obviously, he’s joking.

His phone dings several times. He scowls at it, then slides it back into his pocket.

“I should get back to work.”

He peers down at me, frowns, then runs his index finger along my jaw. “I don’t want to leave you after punishing you.”

I don’t want him to leave, either. I want to curl up in his lap and snuggle while he holds me, but I can’t tell him that. He’s a busy man. Surely, he has things to do.

“How soon before you can be off?” he asks. “I’ll wait for you.”

“You don’t need to wait for me. I was off an hour ago, but I was going to stay until close so I could give Tom some extra pastries I made.”

He narrows his gaze. “Who the fuck is this Tom guy? Why is he so important to you?”

My tummy flutters, and part of me wants to giggle. I like jealous Grady. It might be unhealthy to like having someone so possessive and obsessive, but I think it’s exactly what I need. It’s also what I crave.

“Tom is a long-time customer. He’s like seventy years old. My parents were friends with him, and he still comes by almost every night at closing. I give him hot coffee and pastries. I don’t want him to go hungry.”

He stares down at me, seeming to consider my words. “And he’s homeless?”

I nod. “Yes. I’ve offered to let him sleep in the coffee shop on numerous occasions, but he always turns me down. Anyway, I made his favorite scone.”

The way his eyes turn hard again is adorable. Not that I’ll tell him I think so because the last thing I want to do is hurt the man’s ego.

“You’re making another man his favorite scones?” he asks like he can’t even fathom the thought.

“Did you miss the part about him being almost seventy?” I giggle and roll my eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Little girl. I don’t think I like you cooking for another man. Maybe I need to meet this Tom guy.”

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