Page 17 of Daddy Next Door

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Partially. The conference was real. The plant does need water. But yes, I was curious about you. About how you might respond to the subtle hints in my home."

"Hints?" I echoed.

"The therapy toys in my drawer. The books on my shelves. Small things that might catch the attention of someone attuned to that dynamic." His eyes crinkled slightly. "Though I admit, I didn't expect you to find the room itself."

Heat flamed in my cheeks. "I'm sorry. That was wrong of me."

"Yes," he agreed, his tone shifting subtly, becoming firmer. "It was."

That simple acknowledgment of my transgression sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with desire. In that moment, he wasn't just Ethan my neighbor or even ProtectorE my online friend. He was the Daddy Dom whose sanctuary I'd invaded.

"Like I said, someone needs a punishment," he said again, repeating the words that had frozen me in place minutes earlier.

This time, I recognized the careful testing in his tone—checking my reaction, offering an opening without pushing. My body responded instantly, a rush of heat between my legs, a tightening in my chest.

"I broke the rules," I admitted, my voice small.

"Yes, you did, Starry," he said softly, using my online name for the first time out loud.

The name hit me like a physical touch. Starry. My little self. The part of me that craved guidance and structure and care. The part I'd kept hidden behind a screen name and anonymous posts.

"You know what happens to little girls who break the rules," he continued, his voice gentle but firm.

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

He reached out slowly, telegraphing his movement, giving me time to pull away if I wanted. His fingers brushed against my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Just like in my fantasy, but real. Solid. Present.

"But that's a conversation for when you're properly dressed and we both have clear heads," he said, his voice returning to something closer to his normal neighbor tone. "Don't you think?"

The abrupt shift left me dizzy, caught between disappointment and relief. He wasn't going to act on this tension between us. Not yet. Not like this.

"Yes," I agreed, finding my voice. "That would be better."

His hand dropped away from my face, but his eyes held mine, full of promises and possibilities. "Your shirt should be dry by now. Why don't you change and we can talk? Really talk. No more secrets or separate identities."

I nodded, grateful for the reprieve even as part of me ached for him to pull me closer rather than giving me space.

"Okay," I said simply.

He stepped back, creating distance between us. "I'll be in the kitchen. Take your time."

Whatever happened next, there would be no more hiding.

Chapter 4

IwalkedintoEthan'skitchen,tugging at the hem of my now-dry shirt. He stood by the counter, pouring steaming water into two mugs. He glanced up, catching my eye with a smile that didn't quite hide the tension in his shoulders.

"Tea," he said, sliding one mug toward me. "Chamomile. Figured we could both use something calming."

I wrapped my fingers around the warm ceramic, grateful for something to hold onto. "Thanks."

He gestured toward the small kitchen table. "Shall we?"

I nodded and followed him, watching as he pulled out my chair before taking his own seat. I stared into my tea, watching tiny ripples form with each nervous breath I took.

"So," Ethan said, his voice low and measured. "This isn't exactly how I imagined us getting to know each other better."

A nervous laugh escaped me. "Yeah, not exactly the standard neighbor meet-cute, is it? 'Hi, I accidentally discovered your secret room while snooping through your house.'"

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