Page 38 of Power Play Daddies

After a few more shots, he lowers the camera and gives me one of those rare, soft smiles. “You’re gorgeous.”

I swallow, pretending the sun’s the reason I feel warm all over. “You’re just saying that because you’re looking through a fancy lens.”

“No, I’m saying it because it’s true.” Before I can respond, he grabs my hand, tugging me toward the boardwalk. “C’mon. We’re getting you a swimsuit.”

The store smells like sunscreen and new fabric, and the walls are lined with every color and pattern you can imagine. I glance around, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“Pick one,” Kieran says, leaning against a rack.

I shake my head. “You can’t just pick a swimsuit like you’re choosing cereal.”

“Why not? Just grab one that’s your size and looks good.”

“Wow. You’re really simplifying this.”

He grins. “You’re overthinking it.”

I grab a black bikini with tiny gold accents and hold it up. “What about this?”

His eyes darken just slightly, and he nods. “That’ll do.”

“You didn’t even look at it properly.”

“Daisy, trust me, I looked.”

I duck into the fitting room, the fabric soft against my skin as I try it on. It’s a little more revealing than I’m used to, but the way it fits… yeah, it’s good.

When I step out, his gaze slowly sweeps over me.

“Jesus,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “You’re gonna kill me.”

I laugh, trying to act normal even though my stomach flips at the way he looks at me. “It’s not that serious.”

“It is.” He pulls out his wallet without hesitation. “We’re getting it.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“Not arguing about this.” He hands his card to the cashier, cutting me off.

I roll my eyes but let him win this one. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re spoiled now,” he says with a wink.

Back at the beach, the sun’s higher, the sand even hotter. I’m sitting on a towel, the water sparkling in front of me, watching as Kieran talks to a few of his teammates. They’re loud, laughing, and shoving each other, the kind of easy camaraderie I’ve never really been part of.

Ford catches a wave, his board cutting through the water like a knife, and I lift my phone, snapping a picture. He looks like he was born to do this, all control and power.

“Taking pictures for your scrapbook?” Kieran asks, dropping down beside me.

“For Instagram,” I tease.

He leans closer, his arm brushing mine. “You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

I glance at him, trying not to smile too wide. “You’ve mentioned it.”

Before he can say anything else, his phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, his expression shifting.

“Rare camera seller,” he says, more to himself than me.