Page 10 of Gideon

Gideon.

I had no other plans for Abby that night. Well, apart from getting her to agree to move in with me. If ever a baby girl needed a Daddy, it was Abby, and I knew in return she was utterly perfect for me.

I didn’t want a play partner. I wanted someone who thrived in a permanent relationship dynamic, to be my baby girl all the time. I wanted to be needed. I wanted to be utterly necessary to someone, and I knew she was well on her way to becoming utterly necessary for me.

I’d warmed up the meal my delivery service had provided and even though she had that deer-in-the-headlights look after my moving in statement, I thoroughly enjoyed sitting her on my lap and feeding her every bite until she was full. I’d waited for a question—any question—afterwhat some people might say was an outrageous statement, but she hadn’t said one word. I hadn’t had to spend more than twenty-four hours with Abby to know her attention span was challenging, and her mind flitted through all sorts of curious ideas. She probably thought she had imagined my declaration.Completely adorable.

I hadn’t made the mistake of giving her any other choices either, and I kept questions to the basics. Any Dom worth the name would recognize the flare of panic in her eyes when I had offered her a choice, and while I longed to take that insecurity away, it had taken me less than a few hours to know she was a real-life Mary Poppins.

I grinned at the joke we all shared. It didn’t mean some nanny flying around with an umbrella or doing the dirty with some chimney sweep. It meant PPIEW in texts between the four of us, orPractically Perfect in Every Way.

I’d sent the text in our group chat when she’d fallen asleep halfway through the film27 Dresses, and to a man all my brothers were ecstatic and supportive, wanting to know how they could help. My throat tightened a little. They were all the same. Whether that was saving my ass with an M82A1 or having my back in other ways.

Maddox immediately said he would take my shift at Salvation tomorrow night and Walker offered to help. Dion was out of town but said he would be back on Sunday evening.

I considered that. I tapped my iPhone against my lips and thought about the club, then texted.I’m going to bring her. Introduce her to the Little room. She needs friends.After getting three thumbs-up, I decided she needed her sleep, and an early night wouldn’t kill me. I had zero intention of hersleeping anywhere else, so I simply took a very sleepy Little girl to the bathroom, and then to bed for the night.

In my arms.

The next morning, I slipped out of bed while she was still out for the count and made breakfast. I was a master at French toast and even made a tiny dish of cut-up melon, strawberries, and grapes on the side. As an afterthought, I added some bacon in case she was really hungry. I poured her a glass of orange juice, which was my preference and was why it was in the fridge, but if she liked milk or apple juice better I would stock up. I drank my coffee while it was cooking.

I woke her gently and got treated to a blinding smile as a reward. I tapped that cute nose. “Do you need to go potty?”

Her eyes widened at my language—deliberate, of course—and she nodded shyly. I allowed her privacy that time, but I hoped soon it wouldn’t be necessary. She hurried back to bed and looked at the food. Two plates. One for each of us. “I can’t eat all that,” she said, anxiety in her voice that I hated being responsible for putting there.

“Good thing I’m hungry then,” I said lightly, but I was keeping an eye on what she ate. If she didn’t have a big appetite… Then my thoughts flashed back to the tiny apartment and the nearly empty fridge, and I stifled a flash of temper. With her medical issues, it might be better if she ate smaller portions more frequently, so while I ate the majority of the food, I saved the juiciest strawberries and the crunchiest bacon for her, and planned a mid-morning snack.

After breakfast, I knew I would have to tackle the clothes situation, and we needed to talk. Much as I would have loved to spoil her all day, I could see it was on her mind.

I’d seen her biting her bottom lip, and chewing her nails, and she twisted her hands a lot. A pacifier would take care of the first, though. Not that I could just randomly produce one. I intended to do some online shopping for proper orthodontist-approved adult ones when she was settled. And I didn’t know if she was ready to see my playroom. The one I’d lovingly decorated ready for the day I got a baby girl, ready to spoil her. I’d seen her bedroom, though. It should be a match made in heaven.

Although that would explain things better than I could and reinforce what I’d told her last night. Maybe showing her the room would help her start to trust me. I’d read Eric’s full report last night when she was asleep, and I knew damn well that it wasn’t just returning military that suffered with forms of PTSD. All those different foster homes? It was a wonder she’d survived.

“Abby? I’ve been decorating a room, and I wondered if you’d take a look for me? I would treasure your opinion.” She flushed because I’d given her opinions value. I had a feeling she wasn’t used to that sort of validation, and it saddened me. I stood up and offered her my hand, warmth flooding me when she took it without thinking. I noticed her pulling down the shirt of mine she still wore and could have counted the seconds on one hand before the question about her returning to her apartment for clothes would happen.

“Let me show you this first and then we’ll talk about your things.” She sent me a suspicious look, as if she was wondering if I was a mind-reader, and I grinned. Abby wasopen and honest. Her feelings were written all over her face. I doubted she could lie even if she wanted to, and I wondered if she knew what a gift that was to the Dom in me.

I led her through the kitchen and pointed out the great room, the library and the dining room. She glanced at the open door as we passed my home office. Her room had an interconnecting double door with my office so I could work and keep an eye on my baby girl whether she was playing or napping.

“Close your eyes,” I teased, unable to resist, and my heart melted when she giggled and put her hands over her eyes. I opened the door and kissed the top of her head. “You can look now.”

I immediately wished I’d thought to get my camera, as the utter wonder on her face was priceless. “Ohh,” she breathed out, and her eyes widened as she took everything in. I tried to see the room through her eyes. I’d spared no expense, from the hand-crafted princess bed with the gauzy white curtains, to the matching proper baby girl-sized changing table complete with diapers and all manner of powders and lotions, to the soft, padded rocking chair perfect for holding her on my lap.

There was a huge bin full of stuffies of all sizes, and a large matching bookcase full of picture books, bedtime stories I could read to her, coloring books, and a massive crayon and pencil caddy. Lots of different puzzles. Everything from jigsaws to puzzles you had to build.

My favorite corner was what I termed the “studio.” It was filled with every type of craft from jewelry-making to a sturdy easel complete with paints. It had a specialwaterproof floor in that corner, matching aprons, and the whole room came together in shades of pink and cream.

“Abby?” She seemed to be lost in memories or wonder, and I had to say her name twice before she turned and threw her arms around me. My bigger arms closed around her protectively. “Do you like it?” I heard the hesitation in my voice and right that second, I hadn’t realized how important her answer was, but then she hesitated, and I felt the kick in my gut.

Was I wrong? Had I made a huge mistake?

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, the longing clear in her voice. “I-I hadn’t realized you have a daughter. She’s a lucky girl.” Relief made me almost weak at the knees. Taking her by the hand, I led her over to the big rocking chair and sat down, pulling her on to my lap.

“I don’t have a daughter, baby girl,” I said and pulled her close, rocking her gently. “This room isn’t for that type of little girl, sweetheart. This is for a grown-up Little that wants the same things I do. Someone I can spoil, love, and have special kisses and sexy times with. Someone just like you. I told you last night I wanted you to move in.”

She stared at me, her adorable, parted lips that I badly wanted to feel in all sorts of places. I gently put my finger under her chin to close her mouth before I lost the struggle and took her lips in a long kiss. I could feel my cock was entirely too happy with the idea of Abby being here, but for now, we needed to talk. “What do you think?”

“Me?”she whispered, seeming unable to grasp what I was saying. “Me? But why?”

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