Page 188 of Her Daddies' Everything

“My eyes are not that expressive,” she muttered.

“What would you have said if I’d told you where we were going?” he asked.

“No.”

He nodded. “Exactly. Figured get you here and you’d be polite enough to at least give it a try.”

Cupcakes! How did he read her so easily?

She was already feeling bad that she wasn’t fully onboard. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Right. So I didn’t tell you. And now that you’re here, admit it, you’re curious.”

Oh she was. So curious. But that didn’t mean she could do this or that it was a good idea.

“I don’t know,” she said, chewing her lower lip.

He reached out and released her lip. “What’re you worried about?”

There was so much.

Immy was worried about doing it wrong. About making a fool of herself. About not liking it, or that she’d like it so much that she’d never want to stop being in Little space.

Maybe some of her worries were ridiculous.

But some of them were also legitimate.

“Tell me,” he urged.

She sucked in a breath. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Bullshit.”

She blinked. Umm. What? “I think you might want to rephrase that.”

“I do?” he asked, looking amused.

Immy leaned into him. “Yeah. You do. Because you’re supposed to reassure me that I do know how to do this and that everything is going to be all right and I have to stop worrying. And I could never make an idiot of myself.”

“Don’t gotta tell you all of that, Cherry. Because you already know it. Just proved that you do.”

She took a deep breath in and let it out. “I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You do. You just gotta stop using this.” He tapped her forehead. “And go with this.” He tapped her chest.

“Most of the time, everyone is telling me to use my head. To think. To not react too quickly without thought.”

“That’s the thing about Little headspace, you can stop worrying, stop thinking, you don’t have to be in control. You can let someone else take charge and make the decisions.”

“You?”

He stared down at her intently. “Yep.”

She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, her stomach in butterflies.

“You think you can trust me to take care of you?” he asked.

She could have been imagining it but there was a strange look on his face. Was this a really important question to him?

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