Page 28 of Tame Me Daddy

"This wasn't what I expected," I admitted softly, my voice still carrying traces of my earlier emotional release.

"What did you expect?" Grant asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the narrow space between us.

"I thought I'd feel ashamed, or just . . . relieved it was over. But I feel . . ."

"Tell me," he encouraged, his fingers threading through my hair, cradling the back of my head.

"Alive," I whispered, finding the word that best captured the buzzing awareness in every inch of my skin. "And I want more."

"This can be whatever we want it to be, Cherry," he said finally. "The discipline, the structure—that's one aspect. But there can be more, if you want that."

His honesty, the careful way he offered without demanding, made my chest ache with something beyond desire. I'd spent so long hiding, so long being afraid of what I wanted, that his straightforward acceptance felt revolutionary.

"I do want more," I said, the words coming easier than I expected. "I want . . . you."

His hand tightened slightly in my hair, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me of his strength.

"You should be certain," he said, his voice dropping lower. "This changes things between us."

I nodded. "I know. But I think things already changed the moment you saw the real me and didn't turn away."

A smile, rare and transformative, curved his lips. "I'd never turn away from something so beautiful."

The word—beautiful—applied to the parts of me I'd always hidden, landed like a physical touch. I leaned forward, closing the last few inches between us, and pressed my lips to his.

The first touch was gentle, exploratory. His lips were softer than I'd imagined, contrasting with the roughness of the stubble on his jaw. He let me lead for a moment, responding but not taking control, giving me space to be sure.

As I leaned into the embrace, his fingers trailed from my hair to the sensitive curve at the nape of my neck, coaxing my head to tilt, deepening the kiss with an irresistible urgency. His other arm encircled my waist with a possessive grace, drawing me into an intoxicating closeness that left me breathless, nearly enveloped in his lap. The lingering sweetness from the discipline made my heart race and a gasp escape my lips as I melted into his warmth.

"Too much?" he murmured against my lips.

I shook my head. "No. Just... sensitive."

His smile returned, a hint of something wickedly playful in it now. "We'll be careful, then."

The promise in those words made heat pool low in my belly. His kiss grew more insistent, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips in a silent request. I opened to him willingly, a small sound of pleasure escaping me as the kiss deepened.

Grant's hands moved with deliberate slowness, giving me every opportunity to guide or stop him. They slid up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through my shirt. Even that light touch made me arch toward him, seeking more.

"Tell me what you want, Baby Girl," he said, his voice husky against my ear.

The name—so different from how he called me at work—sent a shiver through me. It defined the space we were in now, a reminder of the dynamic we'd established.

"Touch me," I breathed. "Please, Daddy."

The word slipped out naturally, without thought or plan. Grant's sharp intake of breath told me it affected him as much as it did me. His hands moved to the buttons of my flannel shirt, unfastening them with steady fingers.

"So beautiful," he murmured as he parted the fabric, revealing my simple cotton bra underneath. No lace or frills—I was dressed for ranch work, not seduction—but the heat in his gaze made me feel like I was wearing the finest silk.

His hands, so large they spanned my ribs easily, moved up to cup my breasts. Even through the cotton, I could feel the calluses on his palms, the strength in his fingers as they gently kneaded.

"Is this okay?" he asked, always checking, always making sure.

"Yes," I managed, my voice breathy and strange to my own ears. "Very okay."

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, drawing them into tight peaks. I gasped, arching into his touch.

"Sensitive here too," he observed, repeating the motion and watching my reaction with heated interest.

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