Page 84 of Cook

“It’s a Navajo word. It means beautiful or beauty.”

“You speak Navajo?” Her eyes went wide with clear, childlike fascination.

“I remember some from when I was a kid.” Before my father got addicted to meth, we had traveled to northern Arizona and I had lessons from my grandmother, a wise woman in the tribe.

“Will you teach me?”

I snapped my teeth shut and swallowed. Did she mean the language or all of this? “Perhaps, but not now.”

She looked dejected.

So, I hurried to add, “We have other things to think about now.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Taking a deep breath, I stated, “Maddie, you will tell me what you want from me.”

The game was over. My battle with her calling meDaddywas through. I’d live by her definition from this point forward. I’d finally decided to take control, releasing the worst moment of my life, but I wasn’t touching her until we talked. It didn’t matter if we faced off like this for the entire two hours. I couldn’t just take her and fuck her like I would have with any other woman who had been throwing herself at me for more than a week.

Maddie squirmed, and I watched her shift back and forth as an idea bloomed.

Opening the door to the wardrobe a crack, I retrieved a small leather paddle. The end looped like a doubled-over belt. Moving to the edge of the platform, I reached forward and smacked her inner thigh.

She gasped.

“Sit still and answer me.” I stepped back, holding the paddle at my side, and waited.

Maddie started to pull her hands together, apparently ready to wrench her fingers like I’d noticed she did when she was nervous.

“Don’t.”

Her hands went back to resting on her thighs, fingers splayed. “I want you to erase the bad things.”

“What bad things?” I gritted out. She’d been raped again and again, so how could I possibly erase it all?

She met my gaze, and I knew that was as much of an answer as I was getting right now.

I stepped onto the platform, letting the paddle fall onto the bed, and grasped either side of her face. Her maple-syrup eyes glowed up at me with questions.

“Say yes, nizhóní.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I crashed my mouth down on hers, something inside me ripping to shreds, melting into a puddle, then reforming into something harder. Stronger. Like the sculptures we’d seen at the art fair. I kissed her with the drive of a starving man, allowing our connection to fully redefine the worddaddy.

And when Maddie gasped into the demanding kiss, I swallowed the sound and kissed her harder. Relentlessly. I had to learn how to be what she needed, but in the process, she was becoming my escape from my own hurt and abuse. From the sin I committed against my own family. Was I doing the same for her?

Over and over, my tongue dove into her mouth, devouring her sweetness and every little throaty sound she made. They were mine. All of them.

All of her.

Her hands reached for me, but I pressed them back down to her thighs and growled. Understanding, she kept her arms down, hands away, and that was a damn good thing, because I wanted to ravage her. If I let her small fingers explore my body, all the control I was holding on to so fucking desperately would break free.

That couldn’t happen yet.

My hands slipped into her hair, and both curled into fists. Maddie answered the pull and rewarded me with a whimper, her tongue darting out to meet mine when I let up ever so slightly.

When I broke the kiss, both our chests heaved as we drew in much needed oxygen.

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