Page 41 of Thor

"It doesn't sound silly." I kept my voice gentle but firm. "It sounds like a safe place you created for yourself when the world got too heavy. That's not silly—it's survival."

Tears welled in her eyes again, but these were different—relief, maybe, at being seen and accepted. "I never thought I'd be talking about this with anyone. Especially not with . . ." She gestured vaguely at me, encompassing my tattooed arms, broad shoulders, and general appearance.

"A big, scary biker?" I supplied with a half-smile.

"The Sergeant-at-Arms of the Heavy Kings MC," she corrected, a hint of her usual sharpness returning. "A man who literally enforces rules and intimidates people for a living."

"Maybe that's exactly why it makes sense," I suggested. "Structure, protection, safety—that's what I provide for the club. Not so different from what a Daddy Dom does for his Little."

Her breath caught audibly at the phrasing—his Little—the possessiveness implicit in those words clearly affecting her.

"I'm not saying that's what we are," I added quickly, not wanting to presume. "Just that the principles aren't as different as they might seem at first."

Mandy nodded slowly, fingers still wrapped tightly around the unicorn keychain. "How much experience do you have? With DDLG, I mean."

"One serious relationship, years ago," I said honestly. "She introduced me to it. We were together for about two years before she moved across the country for work. It awakened something in me I hadn't known was there—a specific kind of protectiveness, a desire to create safety and structure that goes beyond physical security."

"And you liked it? Being a . . . a Daddy?" She stumbled slightly over the word, still uncertain of using it directly.

"It felt natural," I answered simply. "Like finding a piece of myself I hadn't known was missing."

The tension had drained from her body now, replaced by a cautious curiosity. She tucked one leg under herself on the couch, facing me more directly.

"I never thought someone like you would understand someone like me," she admitted.

"People are more complicated than their surfaces suggest." I gestured to myself—the tattoos, the muscles, the heavy rings on my fingers. "This is real, but it's not all of me. Just like your corporate accountant persona is real but not your whole self."

She smiled then, a genuine smile that reached her eyes for the first time tonight. "We're both hiding in plain sight, aren't we?"

"Maybe we don't have to hide from each other anymore," I suggested quietly.

Her smile softened, vulnerability and hope shining in her eyes. "Maybe we don't."

Chapter 8

Mandy

Iwokewithmyfacehalf-buried in my pillow, the events of last night crashing back into my brain. The tearful confession. The breaking point. The way Thor had held me as I fell apart.

My cheeks burned hot with embarrassment, but beneath that heat ran something else—a current of relief so profound it made my fingers tingle. For the first time in years, someone had seen me—really seen me—and hadn't turned away.

I reached for my phone, squinting at the bright screen. A message from Amy: "Doing better, sorry to worry you." My heart rate slowed. I'd been so wrapped up in my own emotional hurricane that I'd almost forgotten the initial trigger—Amy's health scare. I typed back quickly, "Love you. Call me later?" then set the phone down and stared at the ceiling.

Thank God she was feeling better.

The smell of coffee and something sweet drifted under the door. My stomach growled in response. Last night, after we’d confessed to each other, I’d awkwardly hid in the bedroom. But I couldn't hide in here forever, no matter how tempting the idea. I grabbed my jeans from yesterday, paired them with the t-shirt Thor had lent me to sleep in (which hung to mid-thigh on my frame), and braced myself.

"Morning," Thor's deep voice greeted me as I padded into the kitchen. He stood at the stove, his massive frame somehow making the spatula in his hand look like a toy. His hair was pulled back in a messy knot, and he wore faded jeans and a navy t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders.

"Morning," I replied, my voice sounding small even to my own ears. I hovered awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen. "Amy texted. She's doing better."

Thor's face softened. "Good. Was worried about her."

I nodded, fidgeting with the hem of the borrowed shirt. "Me too."

We fell into silence, the only sound the sizzle of batter hitting the griddle. Thor flipped a pancake with practiced ease. Neither of us seemed to know where to start.

"About last night—" we both began simultaneously.

---