Page 24 of Daddy's Heart

“Sheriff Boone here. She’s busy. I’ll be sure she’s at work on time.” He hangs up. "No more calls from other men when you're in Daddy's house."

"That was rude."

"That was a rule." He sets the phone on the high shelf above the refrigerator, well out of my reach. "I don't like sharing your attention."

The red flag possessiveness should probably annoy me. Instead, it sends a round of warm wetness down into my already sore and battered pleasure zone.

"You can't just take my phone." I screw up my face as she shrugs.

"I can do whatever I want." He turns back to the stove, flipping eggs with practiced ease. "You're in my house, wearing my shirt with nothing underneath, still tasting like me. Your pussy took me like a champ last night. You screamed my name like you wanted the entire population of Wildfire to know you were getting good and properly fucked by the town sheriff. Pretty sure that makes you mine."

"Colt," I blow out a raspberry, squeezing my legs together, “cavemen are out, you know. Women want a man that is considerate of their feelings, treats them with respect and as an equal.”

"Yep. I agree. I’m not for everyone, but that doesn’t matter. I’m for you. That’s all that matters, now, eat." He slides a plate in front of me loaded with eggs, bacon, and toast cut into triangles. "All of it."

“My allergies—”

“Dairy free butter alternative. Pure olive oil. Any other allergies I should know about?”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Good. Then do as Daddy says.”

I should argue. But the food smells amazing, and there’s something about his bossy but caring manner that hits me in a secret spot I didn’t now I had.

I want some of this. The way he takes away some of the choices, simplifies things, makes some of the noise in my head go quiet.

And there's something about the way he's watching me, like my eating matters to him personally, that makes me want to please him.

So I eat. And he watches every bite, chomping on toast, sipping his coffee, shirtless, nodding approval when I clean my plate.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and the praise makes my heart flutter and a warm comfort settle over me like a security blanket.

After breakfast, we settle on the couch. The storm has mostly passed, which means eventually I'll have to leave this warm bubble we've created.

The thought makes my chest ache.

"What are you thinking about?" Colt asks, pulling me into his lap. His hands settle on my hips, thumbs stroking the soft skin just under the hem of his shirt.

"Nothing important."

"Don't lie to me." His hand cups my face, thumb stroking across my cheek. "Tell Daddy what's bothering you."

"I don't want this to end," I admit.

"Who says it has to?"

"Reality? I have a job, a life—"

"You have a life here." His arms tighten around me. "With me."

"It's been two days, Colt."

"So?"

"So normal people don't make life decisions based on two days."

"Normal people don't feel like this." His hand slides into my hair, tilting my head back. "Normal people don't look at someone and know they're meant to be theirs."

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