Daddy's Angel (Montana Daddies 7)

“Arianna let me get it,” he said quietly, resisting the urge to grab her.

She turned to him. Her thumb had dropped from her mouth, and she blinked a few times but then she nodded. Thank fuck. What the hell was she thinking? Well, obviously she wasn’t. But why was no one in charge of making certain she was safe at night? She could do any number of things in this state. Fuck, she could walk right out the door. He made a mental note to talk to Dominic about that possibility in the morning.

“Here, why don’t you sit up at the island.” The kitchen had a big island with some stools. He reached for her but then pulled his hand back at the last second. It wouldn’t be right to touch her when she was in this state.

Fuck, she was so vulnerable. What if she accidentally wandered outside? What if someone saw her? Hurt her?

He felt ill.

But to his shock, she slid her hand into his. That thumb re-entered her mouth.

“Not very good to suck your thumb, angel,” he told her, reaching for her hand.

Christ. Fuck, man. You are not her Daddy. She’s a client.

He’d suppressed that side of himself for a long time. But it seemed she brought it back out in him. Her eyes went wide as she stared up at him. He sighed. He couldn’t think about how fucking inappropriate this was right now. He’d get her a small serving of ice cream then try to get her back into bed.

He led her around to the other side of the counter and pulled out a stool for her. She just stood there.

“Angel, hop up on the stool.” He patted the seat of the stool for good measure.

She stared down at his hand then up at him. He groaned. Shit. Don’t wake up just as I’m doing this. He gently grasped her around the waist and lifted her onto the stool.

She smiled around her thumb and he quickly made his way back around the island. He spooned out a small amount of ice cream into the bowl then grabbed a spoon and placed them in front of her.

She stared down at the bowl of ice cream with a frown, her thumb slipping free of her mouth. Then she picked up the spoon and pointed at the tub then down at her bowl.

Clearly, she wanted more.

She’d made that very clear. And all without saying a word.

“You have enough ice cream,” he told her as he finished making his sandwich. “Too much isn’t good for you, especially in the middle of the night.”

Her lip went out in a pout. Shit. That was fucking cute. He had to harden himself against her. Cute things were his weakness. And she was fucking adorable.

“Eat up, angel. Unless you’d rather have no ice cream.”

He nearly rolled his eyes at himself. If she remembered this in the morning, he was fucked. But to his surprise she just hummed and started eating the ice cream. He made himself a sandwich and sat across from her, but he barely tasted it. He was too busy watching her eat. The way she licked that spoon, her very real pleasure in each mouthful.

Fuck. What was wrong with him?

She’s the client.

She dropped her spoon with a clatter and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. He winced. That was going to feel sticky and gross later. He moved to the sink and grabbed a clean cloth, putting it under the tap. When he turned, she was standing right next to him, her toy dangling from her hand again as she stared up at him.

“Fuck, you move like a ghost.”

She swayed slightly.

“Tired, angel?”

She nodded and yawned.

“Let’s just wipe your face and hands, huh? Get you get back to sleep.”

She tilted her face up and he washed it gently then he cleaned her free hand, waited until she passed her toy to the other hand before wiping her other hand clean.

Then she slipped her hand into his once more and tugged. He frowned slightly, wondering what she wanted now.