Page 22 of The Club Princess

He holds his hand out for me to grab, and I scoff at him.

“Don’t start, princess. Let’s get some food and buy you some new clothes, yeah? Gage said you’ve been bitching about things not fitting.”

I open my mouth to snap that I haven’t been bitching but take a deep breath and then nod. “And then you’ll show me the photos?”

“Of course,” He grins, and I don’t trust it for a second.

He takes me to the mall thirty minutes away from town. His hand rests on my lower back as we walk through 'til I find a shop with a huge maternity section.

I’ve reached a point where even my dresses feel tight as they stretch over my stomach. Shaw stays a few steps behind me as I browse the racks of clothes, torn between more dresses or just grabbing some leggings and large shirts.

“Hello! Can I help you or… your husband find anything?” An associate asks warmly, her hesitant glance flickers over Shaw.

He chuckles. “She’s my daughter.”

I frown. A strange hurt aches in my chest at his immediate dismissal of being my husband. We could be if that’s what we decided was best for legal purposes.

“No thanks,” I say curtly, unable to control my tone. “Me and mydaddyare just fine.”

The associate blushes and nods, leaving us alone. I push at the clothes harder, scraping the hangers against the metal as I linger on his dismissal.

“Mikayla. You okay?”

I give him a saccharine smile, grabbing some random shirts and dresses and walking around him. I can feel his watchful gaze as I continue to shop before he finally grabs my elbow.

“You seem a little angry, princess.”

Shaking my head, I give him all the clothes. “Nope, just being the dutiful daughter and milking my daddy for all he’s worth.”

He licks his bottom lip slowly, his eyes narrowing before he starts walking me towards the back.

“Dressing room?” He asks the associate. She points, the blush still evident on her face.

Shaw leads me into the room, hanging all the clothes as I watch with crossed arms ‘til he turns to me.

“Alright, what’s the attitude?”

I clench my teeth and then sigh. “You didn’t even entertain the idea of being my husband…. It hurt.”

His face softens. “Mikayla, you know I want to be with you. But we can’t be togetherlike thatin public.”

My throat tingles with an unfamiliar rejection. “What do you meanlike that?”

He sighs, tugging at his beard. “You and I wouldn’t be accepted like you and Gage. It would be better for all our sakes if we kept us,” his hand points between me and him, “behind the safety of closed doors.”

I know what he’s saying makes sense. And maybe it’s the hormones causing it to hurt more than it normally would. With a nod, I move to grab and try something on.

Shaw lingers behind for a second as if to say more before finally leaving me alone in front of the mirror. His legs are spread, arms running across the couch as he watches me undress.

“They could think you’re my sugar daddy or something,” I tease, trying to let go of my earlier hurt.

A low chuckle rumbles out of him, stopping short when I pull off the t-shirt. It leaves me standing in white lacy panties and a nude bralette. My boobs are getting too big for my bralettes, and I might have to upgrade to a real one soon.

“Fuck, baby. Look at you,” his voice is rough, and I turn to face him.

“What?”

He gets off the couch, standing before me as his hand rubs at my belly. I forgot he probably hasn’t seen it entirely bare in months now. His other hand squeezes my ever-expanding waist and moves to the mirror, my back flush against his chest.

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