Page 8 of Daddy’s Naughty Bridesmaid (Naughty Girls Book Club #4)

"You can sit down," he says, nodding toward the living room. "I don't bite." A pause, then with a slight curve of his lips, "Unless you want me to."

Heat rushes to my face. "Very funny."

I perch on the edge of his sofa, sipping my water and trying to look more composed than I feel. He remains in the kitchen, giving me space, which I appreciate.

"So," I say, when the silence stretches too long, "you wanted to talk. Let's talk."

He sets his glass down and moves into the living room, taking the armchair across from me rather than sitting beside me on the sofa.

"I know about your book club," he says without preamble.

I blink, thrown by this unexpected turn. "I’m sorry, my what?"

"Your book club. The Naughty Girls Book Club. I overheard you on a call last night."

Mortification washes over me in a hot wave. Last night, after my shower, I had a brief check-in with Christine about our next meeting. Had he been outside my room? Listening?

"You were eavesdropping on me?" I demand, anger replacing embarrassment.

"Not intentionally. I came to your room to talk, raised my hand to knock, but when I heard you on the phone, I paused." He looks annoyingly unperturbed. "Couldn't help but overhear some... interesting details about your reading preferences."

Oh god.

What exactly had he heard? Christine and I had been discussing our current book, a particularly spicy Daddy Dom romance with discipline spanking and definite power exchange dynamics.

"That was a private conversation," I say stiffly, offended by his decision to eavesdrop on me. How loud was I talking? How much had he heard?

"It was." He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "And illuminating."

"If you're going to mock me—" I push off the couch.

"Sit back down, Jackie,” he commands. “I'm not mocking you. I wouldn’t have listened except I froze in place by what I heard. I’m sorry that I violated your privacy. When I heard what was being said, I wanted to understand what you want, Jackie.”

I set my water glass down with more force than necessary. "What I want is to not have my privacy invaded."

"Fair enough." He nods, conceding the point. "But I think what I overheard might explain some of the tension between us."

"Meaning?"

"Like recognizes like. Meaning you respond to a certain type of... dynamic." His eyes hold mine, unflinching. "One that I happen to favor myself."

My breath catches as his implication becomes clear. He heard me talking about Daddy Dom romance and recognized the dynamic. Which means…

"You're into that?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Into what, exactly?" he counters. "Say it, Jackie."

The challenge in his voice makes something flip in my stomach. "Power exchange," I manage. "Dominance and submission."

"Yes." His gaze is steady, assessing. "I’m a Daddy Dom."

I swallow hard, heat blooming between my thighs despite my best efforts to remain detached. "You're saying..."

"In the right circumstances. With the right partner.

" His voice drops lower. "Someone who needs both firm guidance and tender care.

Someone who's strong on the outside but craves surrender on the inside.

Someone who might call me 'Daddy' when they're being particularly good. Or particularly naughty."

Oh. Oh.

"Someone like me," I say, the realization washing over me like a warm wave.

His smile is slow, knowing. "That's what I'm trying to determine."

His presumption should offend me. I should be storming out, insulted that he thinks he has me figured out based on a snippet of overheard conversation.

Instead, I'm transfixed, heart racing, a yearning I've only explored through fiction suddenly presenting itself as a very real possibility.

"And if I am?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "What then?"

"Then we have a conversation about boundaries and expectations." He watches me intently. "And then, if we both want to, we explore what that might look like between us."

The practical, professional part of me is screaming that this is insane. I barely know this man. I'm here to do a job. The wedding is in two days.

But another part, the part that devours Daddy Dom romances and fantasizes about strong hands and spankings, is already imagining what it would be like to surrender to Matt Dayton.

"I'm still here to do a job," I say, needing to establish at least some boundaries. "Whatever... this is... it can't interfere with that."

"I would never ask you to compromise your professionalism," he says, understanding immediately. "What we do in private stays private."

In private.

The implication that there will be private moments between us sends another wave of heat through me.

"And after the wedding?" I ask, voicing the practical concern. "You'll go back to chasing storms..."

"We'll figure that out when we get there." He stands, moving to sit beside me on the sofa. Not touching, but close enough that I can feel the heat of him. "Right now, I'm more interested in what happens today. Tonight."

My mouth goes dry. "What does happen?"

His eyes darken as they roam my face. "That depends on what you want. What you're ready for. You are ultimately in control. I only do what you consent to. Nothing more."

What do I want? The question seems simple but isn't. I want to be professional. I also want Matt's hands on me, his mouth on mine, his voice in my ear telling me I'm a good girl.

"I don't know," I admit finally. "This is all..." I’m an educated woman and yet words keep failing me.

"Let me help clarify, then." His voice takes on that commanding edge that makes my spine tingle.

"I want you, Jackie. Have since the moment I saw you.

And not just physically, though that's certainly part of it.

I want to know you, the real you, not the professional bridesmaid persona.

I want to see what you look like when you let go of control.

When you trust someone else to take care of you. "

His words paint a picture so compelling, so aligned with my secret desires, that I can hardly breathe.

"And if I want that, too?" I whisper.

"Then we start slow." His hand moves to cover mine, the touch electric even through this simple contact. "We set boundaries. We communicate. And we see where it leads."

It sounds reasonable. Measured. Responsible, even.

So why does it feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump into the unknown depths below?

"The rehearsal," I say, clinging to the mundane reality of my obligations. "We should go."

"We should," he agrees, but makes no move to stand. "But first, I need to know: are you in, Jackie? Do you want to explore this?"

Do I? God help me, I do. Despite the complications, despite the professional risk, despite the almost certain heartache when he inevitably leaves to chase his next storm. I want this. Want him.

"Yes," I say, the word both terrifying and liberating. "I'm in."

The smile that spreads across his face is pure masculine satisfaction. "Good girl."

The simple praise sends a shiver down my spine, a pavlovian response to words I've only read in fiction until now.

"But," I add quickly, needing to establish some control, "I set the pace. If I say stop, we stop. No questions asked."

"Absolutely." His expression turns serious. "Your boundaries are non-negotiable. Your comfort and consent are always my priority.”

It's exactly what I needed to hear. Maybe I’m stupid for allowing a stranger to Daddy me. Maybe… but it feels right. My gut says he is safe. "Okay then."

He squeezes my hand once, then stands. "We should get to the rehearsal."

I nod, rising on legs that feel slightly unsteady. "Yes. Work first."

As we head toward the door, Matt's hand settles on the small of my back. It’s a touch that feels both protective and possessive. At the threshold, he stops me, turning me to face him.

"One more thing," he says, voice low. "Between now and tonight, I want you to think about what you want. What you need. Be honest with yourself."

I nod, swallowing hard. "And tonight?"

His thumb traces my lower lip, teasing me. "Tonight, you tell me. And I won’t tolerate dishonesty."

“And after?”

“After our talk? We’ll put these words into action, Sunshine.” He lowers his mouth to mine in a kiss that can only be defined as possessive.

What have I gotten myself into?

Whatever it is, I'm not backing out now.