Page 57 of Wings
My Daddy.
The casual possession in it still hit like a punch. She said it so easily now, like it had always been true. Maybe it had.
"Thinking about you," I admitted. "About us. About how we got here."
She shifted to look up at me, eyes soft in the fairy light. "Having regrets?"
"No." The word came out fierce enough to make her blink. "Never. Not about any of it."
"Even the spanking?" There was vulnerability there, just a thread of it. "I know it was supposed to be punishment, but I—"
"Made it yours," I finished. "Took what could have been just discipline and transformed it into connection. Trust. Do you know how incredible that is?"
She ducked her head, but I caught her chin, made her meet my eyes. This was too important for hiding.
"Ki, baby girl, you took a punishment spanking and found safety in it. Found pleasure in it. Not because you're broken or wrong, but because you trust me. Because you know down to your bones that everything I do is about taking care of you."
"It did feel safe," she whispered. "Even when it hurt. Maybe especially then? Like—like the rules were real. Like they mattered enough to enforce. Like I mattered enough."
Christ. She was going to kill me with these insights, these glimpses into how her mind worked. I'd read about this—submissives who needed the reality of consequences to feel truly secure in their dynamic. But reading about it and seeing it in my girl's eyes were different universes.
"You matter more than you can possibly understand," I said, and the words were right there, pressing for release. "Ki, I—"
Fear tried to close my throat. Not of saying it, but of the weight of it.
But her eyes were on mine, patient and trusting, and I realized—when else? If not now, in this perfect moment with her warm and pliant in my arms, collar at her throat and my marks probably blooming on her hips, then when?
"I love you, Kiara," I said, each word deliberate and clear. "I'm in love with you. Have been since I was too young to understand what it meant. And now that I do understand, now that I have you—" I had to stop, throat tight with emotion. "I love you beyond reason. Beyond words. Beyond anything I thought I was capable of feeling."
Her eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling—this brilliant, impossibly beautiful smile that lit her up from inside. She pushed up to kiss me, salt on her lips, hands framing my face like I was something precious.
"I love you too," she whispered against my mouth. "I love you so much it scares me sometimes. My Daddy. My protector. My Gabe."
My Gabe. Like I was hers as much as she was mine. The truth of it settled into my bones—we belonged to each other, and now, I’d never let her go.
Chapter 11
Kiara
I'dbeenlyingawakefor the past hour, not anxious or restless, but humming with something I couldn't quite name. My body remembered last night in ways that had nothing to do with the fading sting across my backside and everything to do with the seismic shift that had happened between Gabe and me.
For months, I'd been carrying guilt about the smuggling like shrapnel under my skin. Every supply run, every lie by omission, every time I'd chosen the club's needs over the rules—it had all been eating at me. But Gabe had drawn it out like poison from a wound. The sting of his palm hadn't been punishment; it had been purification.
That was love. Real love. The kind that held you accountable because you were worth the effort.
The kitchen smelled like coffee when I emerged, and my heart squeezed. He'd been up even earlier, setting out breakfast like he did every morning now. Greek yogurt with berries, whole grain toast, orange juice. It looked wonderful.
"Morning, angel."
Even at this ungodly hour, he looked alert, those hazel eyes tracking over me with an intensity that made my stomach flip.
"Morning." I slid onto the barstool, hyperaware of how the hard seat pressed against tender skin. His eyes caught the tiny flinch, and something shifted in his expression—concern mixed with satisfaction.
"How are you feeling?" He moved closer, one hand settling on my lower back with deliberate gentleness. "Really feeling, not just what you think I want to hear."
I considered lying, giving him something easy. But that's not what we did anymore. "Sore," I admitted, then quickly added, "but good sore. Like . . . like everything makes sense now."
His thumb rubbed small circles against my spine. "Yeah?"
