Page 97 of The Pucking Wrong Man

“Shopping,” he said, flashing me a sexy grin.

I stiffened, my eyes widening. No. No. No. No. He was not allowed to take me shopping. “I’d rather not,” I told him softly. “I…I don’t want to feel like I owe you anymore than I already do.”

He paused, his eyebrows going up nearly to his hairline like I’d caught him off guard.

“This part of the date is actually what comes with my sponsorship of the Company,” he finally said smoothly.

“A shopping trip comes with the sponsorship?” I asked dubiously.

He nodded, and I got a little lost staring at how hot he looked while driving. One thing I’d noticed about Camden, he always looked perfectly in control in every situation. Like he was the master of his domain...of the world.

I’d never felt like that.

“Every dancer at the Company gets a stipend for clothes. I just thought it would be fun for us to include that as part of our date,” he was saying as I struggled to not picture him naked.

I guess that sounded legitimate. A hockey player sponsoring a ballet company was different to begin with, so it would make sense that maybe the sponsorship itself would have some things a little out of the ordinary as well.

“Alright, if everyone is getting a stipend,” I said slowly. “Although, I’m pretty sure that your sponsorship had something to do with me as well.” I raised an eyebrow, daring him to refute that.

“Anastasia Lennox, are you accusing me of not being a patron of the arts?” He placed a hand on his chest, pretending I’d hurt him.

I giggled, abruptly stopping because the sound felt so foreign coming out of my mouth.

“My second favorite sound,” he mused, turning into the parking lot of a high-end shopping center that gave me hives just being near it.

“What’s your favorite sound?” I asked, distracted when I saw Grand Prix, a dance store I’d only ever dreamed about going to. It had all the best brands, Capezio, Bloch, Miu Miu… Were we really shopping there?

I realized he hadn’t answered me, and I glanced over, seeing the small, sexy smirk on his lips as he stared at me like something was amusing him. His door was open, and he had one leg out of the cab.

“Are you not going to tell me?” I asked with a laugh, going to open my door. He clicked the lock.

“Don't move,” he growled, shutting his door and jogging around to open mine.

There was a glittery feeling forcing its way into my veins as he helped me out. Like I was precious. Like he was scared I would get injured and he couldn’t take it.

Like I meant something.

“You wanted to know my favorite sound…” he murmured, pressing me against the truck as he leaned his weight against me. His lips danced across my neck, and I shivered at the feeling. I loved how much bigger he was than me. It felt like he could slay all my monsters, save me from the world.

Definite “Daddy” energy.

“Yes, sir,” I gasped, unable to even care about the other shoppers staring at us right then.

“It’s the sound of you coming, of course,” he purred, abruptly straightening and taking a step away.

Thank fuck for my sweatpants. There was definitely a wet spot on this leotard after that little moment, and I didn’t need everyone seeing it.

Or maybe it wouldn't even be a thing.

Anyone would have a wet spot when faced with a god like Camden James.

He was humming softly under his breath as he peeled me off the truck and led me toward Grand Prix, his hand once again holding mine.

What followed after that was like I’d stepped into a fairytale. Even if this was part of the sponsorship, and everyone was getting money to do this—I’d never had anything like this happen to me before.

Anything I looked at, he had the store attendant grab. Leotards and shoes, sweats and leggings, and pretty clips for my hair. Workout sets and navy-blue silk pajamas that made me want to cry with how soft they were. Camden claimed they would help me sleep better and thus dance better, and so in the pile they went.

It went on and on like this and continued after we’d left the store.

---