Page 14 of Daddy's Naughty Author

“The kiss…” He shakes his head like he’s still trying to make sense of it. “It felt real.”

“It did.” There’s no point in pretending otherwise.

His gaze sharpens. “RJ, I think we should put some distance between us.”

The words hit like a slap. “What?” Of course. It makes sense. We are pretend. I wondered if I was the only one to feel the chemistry between us, the only one to want more. I now have my answer. This is all a game of charades to him. I was stupid to let my guard down.

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “There’s only one more dinner you need to go to with my mom before she leaves. After that, there’s no reason to keep this up. And after last night…” His jaw tightens. “I think it’s better if we take a step back before things go too far.”

“No,” I say, surprising even myself.

His brows pull together. “No?”

“I don’t want that,” I tell him firmly. “I like spending time with you, KC. I don’t want to pull away just because something real might be happening.”

His eyes darken, and for a second, he looks almost… pained. “RJ, I’ve enjoyed our time together too. But you need to understand something.” He steps closer, his voice low and controlled. “I’m not a pushover. If we start dating—really dating—things are going to change.”

I lift my chin. “Change how?”

His gaze flickers over my face, searching. “I won’t be the guy you can push away when you get scared. I won’t be some temporary thing you can play with and then walk away from.” His voice drops lower, more intense. “If I’m with you, I’m with you. I take care of you. I keep you safe. You are mine. And I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

The words settle between us, heavy and unshakable.

But I don’t flinch. I don’t back down. He’s saying words I’ve imagined my heroes in my books saying. Real men don’t say these things. Yet here he is, saying each one of these things to me. What should I do? Do I agree? Cut my losses? Or surge on and know if things don’t work between us, we are in a very hard situation, being that we live next door to each other. I should walk away now. It was fun while it lasted.

Instead, I meet his gaze head-on and say, “I’m willing to take that chance.”

KC watches me for a long moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. “Fuck,” he mutters, and he closes the space between us, cups my face in his hands, and kisses me again. It’s different than last night. It’s slow and deep, like he’s staking a claim he hadn’t meant to make.

When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

I smile, breathless. “Maybe not. But I know I want to find out.”

I should’ve known pushing KC would get me in trouble.

Over the past week, he’s been around a lot more. His mom and Monica took a quick trip up into the mountains to some fancy yoga and spa retreat, so it’s just been us. He’s been over every day after work; fixing that leaky faucet in my kitchen, making sure I actually eat meals instead of living off coffee and sheer willpower, even checking the locks at night when he thinks I don’t notice. He’s even popped onto the screen and talked to some of my book club girls. It’s been great having him around. We’ve not progressed further than kissing, not yet, but I’m enjoying the slow burn.

He's dominant as fuck, but with all green flags. He’s somewhere between the overly dominant BDSM Master James in my last book and the gentler Daddy Doms who are into age play in my last series. I’m not a BDSM slave, nor am I a little girl… I’ve only dabbled into the BDSM realm, and only in the bedroom. But am I enjoying having a man who dotes on me while simultaneously protecting me? Hell yes I am. I’m also super curious about what a spanking feels like. He’s alluded to it a few times now. Something about the threat of warming my butt up really turns me on.

And then there’s the look.

That steady, unwavering gaze he gives me when I get too sassy, too stubborn, too reckless.

It’s not just any look. It’s the you’re asking for it look.

So, of course, I have to push him. It’s snowing again and I mention going outside to watch it fall. Without looking up from whatever work he’s doing on his laptop, he tells me to put on my coat and boots first. I argue about the lack of accumulation and how it will all be melted in the morning anyway, and he looks up over his laptop and gives me the look.

“Regardless of how much will or will not accumulate, it’s freezing out. Put on your coat and boots or watch from inside.”

I don’t even think twice as I step onto my porch in the middle of a Colorado snowfall, wearing nothing but a tank top and pajama shorts, my bare feet sinking into the snow. The cold slices through me instantly, but there’s a wicked thrill in it too. In knowing what’s coming.

A deep, sharp voice cuts through the night.

“Rebecca Jane.”

Oh. Shit.

I barely have time to turn before KC is there, towering over me, his expression unreadable except for the tight clench of his jaw. Without a word, he scoops me up, one arm around my waist, the other under my thighs, and marches inside. He’s carrying me. Me. I’m like a good forty pounds overweight and he’s picked me up like I weigh nothing.

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