The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection Frost, J (good beach reads .TXT) 📖

I heard you goad her. Not once, but twice. You said what you said thinking that I wasn’t home and wouldn’t find out about it. You did it on purpose, Emily. That’s not acceptable.”

His disappointment crashes over me. It breaks somewhere between my chest and my throat, my heart slamming against my ribs, and I can’t hold it in any more. “It’s not fair! You’re not letting me defend muh-my-myself when you’re not here!”

“You’re right,” Logan says and for a wild moment I think he’s actually agreeing with me. Startled, I lift my head and look up into his face. His neck is flushed. His cheekbones and jaw are so prominent they look like they’re about to cut through his skin. His eyes are absolutely blazing. Oh, fuck. He’s not agreeing with me at all, and he’s really, really angry. I slam my forehead back down into the carpet.

“It’s not fair,” he continues. “Life’s not fair, little girl. I didn’t promise you I’d make the world fair. I promised you that I would make it safe if you followed my rules—”

“You haven’t made it safe!” I sob. “She confronted me! She tried to scare me with your flogger, and when that didn’t work, she grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let me go! How is that safe? I wish I’d gone home to Syracuse while she was here. Why didn’t you let me go home?”

Logan’s silent. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. I curl one hand over my head and slide the other one under my face to shut my stupid mouth.

He’s quiet for so long my tears dry up and I kneel with my forehead on the carpet, sniffling, because of course my nose is running. Even though I’ve stopped crying, fine tremors run through me and I can’t stop them no matter how tightly I squeeze my muscles. They run through me until I’m shivering all over. With each tremor, the wire of tension inside me stretches thinner and thinner, until finally, I snap. I can’t stay here anymore, silent and shaking under the weight of his anger and disappointment. I don’t belong here.

I bolt.

Logan catches me before I reach the door. He wraps his arms around me, lifts me off my feet, and drags me backwards to his chair. He sits, pulling me down into his lap. His arms are like steel bands around me. He seats me in his lap with a force that jams the butt plug up behind my heart somewhere, but the whole scuffle is absolutely silent except for our harsh breaths.

“Stop, little girl,” he growls into my hair. “You do not run away from me.”

“Luh-let me g-g-go!” I wail. “I c-c-can’t follow your rules! I c-c-can’t be your little girl! I’m not guh-good enough.”

“Stop,” he growls. “Stop that right now. Stop. You are still my little girl. You will always be my little girl. Do you hear me?”

I shake my head. I do hear him but I can’t stay here in his lap when everything is crumbling and crashing around me. When I’ve ruined everything. I’ve said things he can’t possibly forgive. I can’t stay here like this. I can’t.

“D-dominoes, Sir. Dominoes,” I sob my safe word.

There’s a long silence.

“Okay, Emmy, it’s okay. Turn around.” He releases me and helps me stand, keeping hold of my wrists. I can’t look at his face and even if I could, I can’t see anything through a fresh wash of tears. He turns me around and draws me back down, straddling his legs, holding me to his chest. The koala-baby hug, and something inside me that clenched tightly around a core of unbearable pain while Miranda was tormenting me releases.

“You’re overwhelmed?” he asks gently.

I nod against his shoulder as I hiccup around each sob. So, so overwhelmed.

“Breathe with me.” He loosens one of the hands I have wrapped in a death grip around his neck and draws it down between us so my palm’s over his heart. He closes his hand over mine. “Feel me. In. Hold. One, two. Out. One, two, three, four, five.”

I breathe with him. It feels like it takes a long time, but our breathing synchronizes. My heartrate slows to match the deep thudding in his chest. He holds me, rubbing his free hand up and down my back. He doesn’t say anything. Neither do I. We just slow down until his center of calmness spreads into me as well.

“Better now?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir,” I whisper.

“No, don’t do that. I know you’re upset. I know you’re overwhelmed. But this is not the end of us. You’re still my little girl; I’m still your daddy. You’ve used your safe word, we’ll start there. Do you want me to let you go? Do you want to be left alone?”

I shake my head. I don’t need to bolt anymore.

“Can you communicate with me? Calmly? Or do you need some quiet time first?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, but it just chokes me up and I begin to cry again, sniffling into his shirt. I don’t want to feel this way. Everything in me is tearing and drowning and horrible. I’m still filled with all of Miranda’s ugly words. I want to explode with them. I have exploded. At my daddy. What am I doing? What did I say to him? I love Logan. I love him so much. I don’t want to be with anyone else, ever. I’m just not good enough for him.

I cry harder, bunching his shirt in my hands and holding it to my face.

“Baby girl,” he says softly, stroking my hair. “This isn’t helping, is it?”

Nothing’s helping. I shake my head.

“Right. We’ll try another way. Hold on to me.”

He picks me up and carries me over to the couch in front of the bookcase. He shouldn’t be carrying me, but I don’t object and I don’t struggle, because the only thing worse than him hurting himself lifting too much weight is him hurting himself trying not to drop me.