Page 27 of Daddy's Justice

“I… uh, I can bathe myself.” I saw his frown as he rose from beside the tub and stalked toward me.

“You are insistent on being naughty and not listening to your Daddy, aren’t you?”

“What? No, that’s not it.” I put up a hand to stop him from coming any closer.

He raised an eyebrow and stopped, briefly. “Then why aren’t you obeying me? Do I need to warm your behind to motivate you into listening? You are already on the receiving end of a bad girl spanking for not obeying me outside earlier tonight, do you want to add to it?”

“No!” I wasn’t fond of his spankings. Bad girl spanking? Like there were any other kinds.

“Then take that shirt off and get in the tub.” I could hear the frustration in his tone as he turned back to the tub to test the water temperature.

“No!” I covered my mouth the second the word came out, my hand gripping the collar of his shirt as if to assure it remained around me. He turned to face me again, and I noticed the tick in his jawline, a warning. I backed up, right into the sink. I was trapped as he moved toward me.

“What did you just say to me?” His tone was scary quiet. “Do you know what happens when you tell Daddy no?” I couldn’t open my eyes any wider than they currently were. He reached for the hem of the shirt; I knew his intent. I closed my eyes.

“Please, wait!” My emotions were caught up in the storm around me. I needed a second, just a second, to breathe. He must have heard the raw desperation in my tone, because nothing happened. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. He was staring at me, but not in an angry way. No, it was something else in his eyes all together.

Tender determination. It was almost my undoing.

“Talk to me. What is going on?” He released his hold on the shirt and stepped back away. Turning, he flipped off the water, which now was a mere inch or two from the top of the tub.

“I-I,” I stammered over my words, my eyes going to my folded hands in front of me, unable to keep his gaze. “I don’t like people to see me naked.”

“People?”

“Men. I don’t like men to see me naked.”

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Morrigan, look at me.” His tone wasn’t mean, just commanding. I dragged my eyes up to his face. “I am not just a man.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered. “Right. You are a god. Sorry for insulting you, your Godness.” Was that a word? I didn’t know.

“One.”

“One?”

“You don’t want to see what happens if I get to three. If you interrupt or curse at me again, I might just pass two altogether. By Odin, you try my patience. I am not just a man—”

“Right. We’ve been over that.”

“Two.” He held up the fingers and glared at me.

“Okay, okay!” I said.

“You are going to learn tonight.” The words held a promise. “I am not just a man, Morrigan, not because I am a god, but because I am your man. Not any ol’ man, but your Daddy. There is a difference, yes?”

I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. He was right. He wasn’t just another man. In the span of one day, he had become my man.

Inside, I knew, he had been my man since before I was born. According to him, we were fated. And God help me, I believed him. Both of us were aware of the connection from the second our bodies had touched.

“I asked you a question, Morrigan. There is a difference, right?”

“Yes,” I whispered, suddenly very aware of how small the room was and how close he was to me.

“Yes? Yes what?”

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