Forever My Babygirl (Vegas Daddies)

Mr. Whiskers never lets anyone but me hold him.

My heart melts.

I give the screen another look, then put the phone back to my ear. “You’re not fighting fair, you know that?”

“I know, but I’m willing to play dirty to get what I want.”

I laugh to myself. “You would play dirty.”

He growls, and it’s the sexiest damn thing.

“What is it that you want?”

“I want you. I want you here, with us.”

Us. I picture myself on that couch, curled up against his other thigh. “I…”

“Just for the night.” He clears his throat again. “So, what do you say?”

Wait. For the night? Seriously? After Lexi’s just told me he’s a playboy?

“I’m not going to be another notch on your belt,” I protest, getting angry with him and with myself because that’s exactly what I am.

“What? No!”

“Then why go for just one night? To warm your bed because you’re cold? Hmm?”

“Hey.” His voice is stern, and it does strange things to my heart.

“What?” I ask, in a smaller voice than I plan. I swallow hard.

“It isn’t like that.”

“Isn’t it?”

He sighs. “I was an ass, babe.”

Was he really, though? I mean, we had a contract. We fulfilled that contract. He didn’t do anything really… wrong.

“I’m sorry, Rawley. I didn’t mean… I’m too…”

Too what? Even I don’t know.

“I’m on my way to pick you up, babygirl.”

So I say the only thing I can. Tears sting in my eyes as the words tumble from my mouth.

“Yes, daddy.”

My heart soars.

Lexi and Shane are out on a Sunday afternoon date. I scrawl a note to her. I pack a few things in a bag, just whatever I need for tonight and class tomorrow. One night, Emmeline, then you’re getting your butt back to this apartment, I lecture myself. But I don’t find myself very convincing, so just in case, I throw a second outfit into the bag.

I throw my bag over my shoulder and walk out into the late afternoon sun to wait by the gate. Twenty minutes later, his black Mercedes pulls up. Before it even comes to a stop, the door swings open and he’s there, in the flesh, grinning at me in that heart-stopping way, wrapping me up in his arms.

He bends me back and kisses me so perfectly, I melt into him and sigh.

“There’s my girl.” He pulls me close, kissing the top of my head. “I’ve missed you like crazy.”

I look up at him, teasing. “I thought it was Mr. Whiskers who missed me.”

He leans down. “He does. Just not as much as me.” He kisses my lips.

That feeling of being home wells in my chest.

We make out like a couple of teens in the backseat of the car. His hand slips up my shirt, his tongue sliding in my mouth. I run my hand down the side of his face, through his hair as I kiss him back. Oh, God, it feels so good to be back with him, to have him touch me, kiss me, hold me. To smell him and feel him.

No one has ever made me feel like this. No one but him.

We go up to the apartment, hand in hand.

Baskins and Mr. Whiskers are on the couch, curling up together.

“Right where I left them.” Rawley comes behind me, kissing my neck as I bend down to pet them.

Mr. Whiskers looks up at me, giving me a bored meow. “Have I been replaced?” But he gives my hand a gentle nuzzle to let me know I haven’t.

Rawley takes me in his arms. “You haven’t seen my bedroom yet, have you? Can I give you the tour?”

I wind my arms around his neck, ready for his kiss. But something in me shifts, not yet ready for more. Fear holds me back, knowing at any moment, he could end things between us as coldly as he did the first time. I force a light tone. “I’m hungry. How about dinner?”

He tries to hide the flash of disappointment that shoots through his gaze. “Of course. You want to order in, or go out?”

“Hmm…” the couch sure looks cozy with the pets, but it feels too…intimate. I need some time to warm up to the idea of—this—whatever this is that’s brewing between us, before I spend too much time alone with him—I know exactly where that will lead, with my panties on the floor and me in his arms. “How about we go out?”

“Sounds good. Just let me change out of these sweats.” He takes a look at my jeans and tee shirt. “Someplace casual? Pizza?”

“Sure.” I go to the couch, petting the dog and cat in turn, cooing at them and snuggling them while I wait.

He returns, dressed in light wash jeans and a tight cut black tee, making me reconsider my stance on immediate intimacy. He grabs his wallet and his phone from the counter. “There’s a really good place just a few blocks from here. Want to walk?”