Page 248 of Let Me In

He arranges me carefully, like I’m something precious.

Like I’ve never been too much. Not even once.

His hand rests at the small of my back. Solid. Grounding. The weight of it presses into me with a quiet strength, and my spine instinctively softens beneath it.

I feel the shift in my breathing—shallow, fluttery. A nervous ache rising behind my ribs.

He slides my sleep pants down first, slow and steady. Then his fingers hook into the waistband of my underwear.

And I panic.

“Cal—wait, I—maybe we don’t have to—”

My voice is thin, high with nerves. I try to push up, to catch his eye, to escape the vulnerability of it. “It’s not that bad. I’m just… I think I’m just tired. You don’t have to—”

His hand stills.

Then—

“Emmy.”

That voice.

My breath stutters. My spine pulls straight on instinct, every nerve attuned to the gravity in that single word.

Low. Unshakable.

Not angry. Never angry. But laced with something deeper. Something that reaches past the part of me that wants to run.

“I said come here. And you did. That means you want help. And now I’m going to give it.”

I stop moving.

“You don’t get to squirm out of being taken care of just because it feels unfamiliar,” he murmurs, his hand smoothing slowly over the curve of my back. “You do need this. I know you do.”

A soft sound escapes me. Not a sob. Not a word.

Just surrender.

And he hears it.

My underwear slips down. The air hits my skin. I bury my face in my arms, breath hitching.

But Cal is right there. One hand wrapped around my hip. The other brushing down my spine in long, calming strokes.

“Just like this, baby girl,” he murmurs. “Let Daddy settle you.”

His hand lifts.

The first swat lands firm and slow. Not punishing. Not sharp. Measured—enough to settle, not to sting.

I gasp.

But it’s not pain.

It’s release.

The next swat comes a breath later. Then another. A steady rhythm. Each one met with the same voice—low, warm, so sure it makes my heart tremble.

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