Page 26 of Daddy Enforcer
But I’m also aware of how fast this is moving.
I need to protect the boy, not just from whatever Trent is hiding, but from rushing into something he’s not ready for. Still, seeing Billie like this, all eager and happy, makes me think we’re on the right track. This mission’s more than a job now—it’s a chance to be the Daddy he needs, and I’m not backing down.
And if Billie so happens to enjoy the sensation of gripping onto me as I show him my downhill snow-ski skills then that’s just the icing on the wintery cake…
Chapter 11
Billie
I’m practically bouncing as I pull on my boots, my heart racing with excitement at the thought of zooming down the mountain on a snow-ski with Max.
It’s not just the thrill of the ride—though, okay, that sounds pretty freakin’ awesome—it’s the idea of getting out of this cabin, seeing something new, maybe even snagging some candy or those glitter pens I mentioned in a half-joking way yesterday.
Max’s promise of treats if I behave has me on my best behavior, and I’m still glowing from last night, from calling him Daddy and slipping into that warm, safe Littlespace after he spanked me just to make me feel secure.
Truly, it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before, and I wantmoreof it, even if it scares me a little.
But as I zip up my too-thin jacket and watch Max haul the snow-ski out from behind the cabin, a sudden rush of nerves hits me like a cold gust…
That thing looks fast, sleek, and powerful, and the snowy slope outside is steep—reallysteep, like something out of an actionmovie. I’m Billie B, pop star extraordinaire, not some winter sports pro.
What if I fall off?
Or we crash into a tree?
My stomach twists, and I freeze, my boots rooted to the snow. Suddenly I feel scared and a little unsure that this thing is a good idea.
Max must see the panic written all over my face because he sets the ski down and walks over, his sparking blue eyes steady and reassuring.
“You okay, Little One?” Max asks, his voice low and warm, that Daddy tone that makes my tummy do these ridiculous flips. “It’s just a quick ride to town. Nothing to worry about.”
“It’s just… it looks kinda scary,” I admit, my voice smaller than I mean it to be, almost swallowed by the wind. I glance at the snow-ski, its metal gleaming under the morning sun, then at the snowy path disappearing into the trees, all sharp angles and powdery drifts. “What if I mess up or something? I’ve never done this before.”
I feel all silly and small admitting that.
But I can tell from the look on Max’s face that he doesn’t think any less of me.
Max steps closer, his big hand resting on my shoulder, and I feel that grounding warmth again, like he’s got the whole world under control.
“You won’t mess up,” Max says, his tone firm but kind, like he’s stating a fact. “Just hold on to me tightly, and you’ll be fine. I’ve got you, Billie. Promise.”
His eyes lock on mine, steady and sure, and I believe him, my nerves easing as I nod, a shy smile creeping onto my lips.
“Okay, Daddy,” I say, the word slipping out so naturally now, filling me with a warmth that chases away the cold. “Let’s do this!Yay!”
Max grins, a rare flash of that softer side that makes my heart do stupid things, and helps me onto the snow-ski, settling me behind him on the narrow seat.
I wrap my arms around his waist, my hands clutching his thick jacket, and I can feel the solid strength of him under my fingers, all muscle and warmth.
He fires up the engine, and the ski roars to life, vibrating under us, making my pulse jump.
“Hold tight,” Max calls over his shoulder, and then we’re off, shooting down the snowy slope like a rocket.
I squeal, half from fear, half from thrill, as the wind whips past us, stinging my cheeks and tugging at my hat.
The trees blur by, their branches heavy with snow, and the ski kicks up powdery clouds that sparkle in the sunlight. I’m holding onto Max for dear life, my face pressed against his back, and it’samazing.
The speed, the rush, the way his body shields me from the cold—it’s like flying, but better, because he’s here, keeping me safe.
