Page 25 of Daddy Next Door

The contrast between us couldn't have been more stark—him fully clothed and composed, in control; me almost naked, bound, waiting. The imbalance sent a thrill through me that I felt all the way to my core.

He didn't rush to the bed. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe for a moment, looking at me with careful consideration. I felt his eyes tracking over every loop of red velvet. The weight of his gaze was almost physical, like being touched without a single point of contact.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked, finally pushing away from the door and walking into the room.

"Yes," I managed to say, my voice smaller than I intended.

"Good." He circled the bed slowly, like a predator taking stock of its prey. "And the ropes? Still feeling okay?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice again.

"Words, Lily," he reminded me gently. "I need to hear you say it."

"They feel good," I said, my voice a little stronger. "Not too tight."

"Perfect."

He came to a stop at the foot of the bed, both hands resting lightly on the wooden frame. His expression had shifted from careful concentration to something darker, more intense. The change was subtle—a slight narrowing of his eyes, a barely perceptible tightening of his jaw—but I noticed it immediately. Heat pooled low in my belly in response.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to see you like this?" he asked, his voice dropping to a lower register that sent shivers across my skin.

I shook my head, then quickly corrected myself. "No. How long?"

"Since the first time I met you. Do you remember?"

"I remember," I whispered.

“You came out of your place, the most beautiful fucking woman in the world. I knew I was in trouble, living next to a goddess like you.”

He moved to the side of the bed and sat down beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body but not touching me. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, shifting my bound body infinitesimally toward him.

I blushed with pride and arousal.

"You are gorgeous," he said, his eyes traveling from my face down to where the ropes crisscrossed my body.

His hand hovered above the bare skin of my stomach, not touching, just close enough that I could feel the warmth of his skin. I strained upward instinctively, seeking contact, but the ropes held me in place.

He smiled – a slow, knowing curve of his lips that made my pulse quicken. "Patience, little one."

The endearment made me shiver. It was still new between us, this dynamic, still being explored and defined, but that name—little one—did something to me that I couldn't quite explain. Made me feel both small and precious.

His fingertips finally made contact with my skin, just a whisper of a touch tracing a line from my collarbone to the swell of my breast. The simple contact after so much anticipation made me gasp.

"Looking at you, like this," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through me, "makes me think of how you looked at me, when I got out of the shower." His fingers paused their journey. "Do you see that, little one? The parallel?"

The memory flashed hot in my mind—Ethan stepping out of his shower, water droplets clinging to his shoulders, steam rising around him. The way I'd frozen, unable to look away. The shameful, exhilarating knowledge that I was seeing something not meant for my eyes.

And now here I was, positioned deliberately for his gaze, unable to hide any reaction, any response. The parallels were unmistakable.

I nodded, feeling the heat of a blush spread across my cheeks and down my neck.

"Yes," I whispered. "I see it."

"Tell me what you saw that day," he said, his voice soft but carrying unmistakable authority. "By the window. I want to hear it from you."

My mouth went dry. The memory was vivid, almost painfully so, but translating it into something I could say out loud to him was another matter entirely.

"I looked over and . . ." I swallowed hard. "Your bathroom window was open. I didn't mean to look, not at first, but then I saw movement and—"

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