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"Everything's ready to go." On my way in, I double checked with the photographer and the wedding planner.

"You're amazing," she says, squeezing my arm affectionately. "I don't know what I would have done without you this weekend."

"Just doing my job," I say with a practiced smile. "Now, let's get you ready for cake cutting. It's your moment to shine."

As I guide Catherine toward the elaborate cake display, I catch Matt watching me from across the room. There’s an intensity in his gaze that suggests he sees beyond the professional performance to the woman beneath. The woman who's beginning to integrate all aspects of herself rather than keeping them carefully compartmentalized.

The woman who's discovering that sometimes, the most unexpected connections are the most transformative.

The woman who, despite years of professional boundaries and careful distance, is falling for a storm chaser with perceptive eyes and dominant tendencies that match her secret desires with uncanny precision.

The professional bridesmaid who's discovering that some rules are worth breaking for the right person.

And Matthew Dayton with his quiet strength, perceptive understanding, and acceptance of all aspects of me might just be exactly the right person to show me what happens when a woman breaks her Daddy’s rules.

CHAPTER 8

By the time the DJ announces the next slow song, the cake has been cut, the toasts have been made, and I’ve fulfilled every last one of my bridesmaid duties. The ballroom lights dim slightly, the soft amber glow settling over the dance floor like candlelight.

And then I feel him. Before I see him, before I hear him. Matt moves like he always does with a deliberate, confident, quiet command woven into every step. My body reacts before my mind catches up, my heart rate spiking in anticipation. I’ve never felt this way about a man before. Never. I’ve been attracted to men, but this? This is more than attraction. It’s like my soul recognized him as being mine. I shake off that ridiculous thought as he draws closer.

“Dance with me?” he murmurs, appearing at my side, hand extended.

I place my hand in his without hesitation. “Took you long enough.”

“I was being polite. Letting the family have their moments,” he says, drawing me toward the dance floor. “But I’ve waited through cake, a champagne spill, and your mysteriously long conversations with flower girls. I’ve earned this.”

He pulls me close, one strong hand settling at the small of my back, the other capturing my hand in his. We start to sway, slow and easy. The world narrows until it’s just the two of us, the hum of the music a distant backdrop to the warmth of his body pressed against mine.

“I’ve never danced at a wedding like this,” I admit quietly, my cheek brushing the lapel of his suit jacket. “I’ve danced, of course, as part of my duties… But, never with someone I’m interested in.”

“I’m interested in you, too,” he murmurs into my hair. “You’re mine, Sunshine.”

His words wash over me, settling in deep. Warm. Steady. Real.

"Do you know what I want right now?” He asks me. I shake my head. “I want to finish my best man duties while thinking extremely indecorous thoughts about what happens when this reception ends and I get you alone again."

The blunt admission sends heat pooling low in my belly. "That's... remarkably specific," I manage, fighting to maintain composure despite the images his statement evokes.

"I find clarity beneficial in all areas of life," he says, the serious tone belied by the heat in his eyes. "Especially regarding expectations and intentions."

"And your intentions for tonight are...?" I prompt, surprising myself with my boldness.

His smile is slow, predatory in a way that makes my pulse quicken despite the public setting. "To thoroughly explore every sound I can draw from you when you surrender control. To watch you come apart beneath my hands, my mouth, my cock. To hear you call me 'Daddy' as you beg me for your release."

The explicit declaration, delivered in that calm, controlled voice while we move decorously among other dancing couples, steals my breath and sends color flooding my cheeks. No manhas ever spoken to me with such a direct, unashamed statement of desire, with no prevarication, no uncertainty, just clear intent and absolute confidence.

"That's..." I struggle for words, professional composure thoroughly rattled.

"Too much?" he asks, genuine concern beneath the heat. "We established honesty between us, Sunshine. I won't censor my desires unless you ask me to."

"Not too much," I assure him quickly. "Just... unexpected in the middle of a wedding reception. Difficult to respond to appropriately while maintaining professional decorum."

His low chuckle vibrates against me where our bodies press together. "Who says you need to respond appropriately? I rather enjoy watching your professional veneer crack when I push just the right buttons."

"You're deliberately trying to make me blush in public," I accuse, though there's no real heat in it. "Testing my composure."

"Guilty as charged," he admits without a trace of remorse. "Though I prefer to think of it as anticipatory foreplay. Building tension that makes the eventual release all the more satisfying."