Page 11 of Bad Daddy

Cece

I’ve always been an early riser despite hating to get out of bed. But this morning, after watching Carter sleep for an hour or two, I’m finally up and in his kitchen.

I put on the coffee, then get to work making breakfast–eggs over easy, crispy bacon, waffles, and homemade hashbrowns. I never get to cook like this at home. Mom’s typically passed out cold until noon or at some guy’s house, so cooking for one isn’t much fun and kind of depressing.

I’m still in disbelief over what’s happening. What’s happened….

I honestly never expected Carter to act on our attraction. Given our age gap, and especially with me still in high school, I’m beyond shocked that he’s even interested in me.

I grew up floating from one house to another, one school to another, and Mom with one man or another. I didn’t have much in the way of stability, so when it was announced we were leaving Nevada and coming to New York, I didn’t know what to think. Even after we arrived, I hesitated to settle into our new life.

Everything changed when I approached Odette Cavanaugh at school. I’d heard the rumors about her and seen some of the abuse she took but still held her head high. I admired her and knew that she was someone I could trust. Things happened quickly after that.

Carter appeared in my life and overtook all my headspace. He was the only one who captured my attention when I wasn’t focused on schoolwork. He hadn’t been appalled after that kiss when I told him my age. He’d smiled warmly at me, caressed my cheek with a gentle finger, and told me that the best things in life make you wait.

I’d been confused by his meaning until yesterday. Now, I understand the sentiment. Waiting for me to hit my eighteenth birthday was all worth it to him.

As soon as I’ve dished out our plates and poured the coffee, I sense his presence. Larger than life, kind of ominous, and engulfing me in his orbit.

“Smells delicious,” he murmurs in my ear. His hands grasp my hips as he pulls me back into his immense body. “Should have woken me up first.” His hot breath tickles my neck.

“Food first,” I tell him, smiling back at his frowning face. “I need fuel before we jump back into bed.

Picking me up, he places me on the counter and prowls in for a kiss. “Who says it has to be on the bed?”

I suppose I hadn’t thought about that.

“Well, I still need food first. My stomach is grumbly.” As if to prove my point, it makes another grumbling sound that embarrasses me.

He sighs and rolls his eyes playfully. “Fine. Food then fucking.”

I’m not used to his bluntness.

Carter helps me carry everything over to the table, and we eat in companionable silence. He moans every few minutes, and I take that as a good sign that he likes my cooking.

“Spit it out,” he says once he notices that I’m pushing my hashbrowns around my plate after I’ve eaten enough.

Tabling my fork, I sit back in my chair and spout what I’m thinking in a rush of words. “I need to go home and get some things. Sentimental things. I know you don’t like my mom, but I need her to know I’m safe, too.”

Chewing a piece of bacon, Carter stares at me, assessing what I’ve just said before speaking again. “I won’t let you go alone.”

“It’s my mom, Carter. She’s not going to hurt me.” She’s done some despicable things, but I’ve never truly worried about my safety with her.

“Cece, darling girl.” He grabs my chair and drags me over to him. “Your mother sold you like a piece of meat. There is nothing she won’t do for money.” His tone softens as his words sink in. “I all but took you from the man who paid a few hundred grand for you. He’ll either want that money back, or he’ll want you.”

“What are you saying?” I understand his implication, but apparently, I need the words drummed into my head with a rail spike.

“You aren’t safe, Cece. Until I can ensure the world knows you’re mine, I will be sticking to you like glue.”

The warmth of his hands on my thighs seeps into my chilled flesh. As much as I’d like to think he’s being overdramatic, I know he isn’t.

“The independent woman I’ve been working so hard to become is screaming that I reject the protection you’re offering.”

“But…” Of course, there’s one.

“But the woman learning it’s okay to trust is begging me to hand mine over to you and be confident that I’ll be safe if I do.”

“What’s louder…trust or independence?”

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