The Institute, Daddy Issues(70)

But mostly, I was still on an emo­tional high. Still stuck in the Little head­space I’d once scoffed at and thought was a joke or an ex­cuse to duck re­spons­ib­il­it­ies. So while the adult, re­spons­ible Andi was some­where scream­ing that I was screw­ing up my en­tire ca­reer and the best re­la­tion­ship I’d ever had, the Little me was con­tent to sigh and snuggle up to Salt’s broad chest and mur­mur, “Thank you, Papa.”

Salt seemed happy to just hold me.

“Mishka,” he mur­mured, gath­er­ing me close. I pressed my face to his throat and breathed him in—the scents of the ocean and his warm skin com­for­ted me and helped shut up the shrill voice of reason that was try­ing to as­sert it­self. To­mor­row…I would deal with the con­sequences of my ac­tions to­mor­row. That was soon enough.

I’d had a very stress­ful day and now that I was fi­nally re­laxed, I just wanted to sleep where I was safe—in my Papa’s arms.

So think­ing, I let my­self drift off and fell asleep wrapped in his strong em­brace.





Chapter Ten

“Wake up—we will be late. Un­less you want me to bring you break­fast in bed again?” Salt’s deep voice and the sun­light stream­ing through the cracks in the bed­room shades woke me. I took a deep, lazy stretch won­der­ing why I felt so good. My body seemed to be hum­ming with con­tent­ment and I felt looser and more re­laxed than I could re­mem­ber feel­ing for a long time.

“Time to get up,” my part­ner said again.

“In a minute,” I mur­mured. I rolled over, keep­ing my eyes closed, rel­ish­ing the feel of the silky sheets against my bare skin…wait a minute. My bare skin?

My eyes flew open and I real­ized I was sleep­ing na­ked. Not only that, Salt was stand­ing over me fully clothed in an­other one of his dark, im­macu­late suits. He was watch­ing me as I writhed around on the bed like some kind of porn star.

“Salt?” I gasped, sit­ting up and pulling the silky gray sheets up to my chin.

“You do not have to do that,” he re­marked, sit­ting on the bed be­side me. “You do not have to be shy with me now.”

Sud­denly everything came back to me. The way I’d let my part­ner see me na­ked. The way he’d bathed me…shaved me…and… Oh my God, had I ac­tu­ally let him touch me?

Not just let him—you begged him, whispered a nasty little voice in my brain. Begged him to touch you un­til you came all over his hand. God only knows what he thinks of you now after the dis­play you put on last night.

“Crap,” I groaned, put­ting my face in my hands. I couldn’t even look at my part­ner. “Salt,” I said, my voice muffled. “About last night…”

“Last night, we did only what was ne­ces­sary,” he said firmly.

“I don’t know what came over me,” I said, still not look­ing at him. “It was so…so weird. I just—”

“Andi…” He lif­ted my chin gently but firmly un­til I re­luct­antly met his eyes. “There is no shame,” he said softly. “We are play­ing roles here, yes? Only pre­tend­ing.”

“Yes…yes, of course,” I muttered, look­ing away. What would he think of me if he knew that everything I’d done the night be­fore had been real—at least to me? I hadn’t been play­act­ing when I begged him to touch me and called him “Papa.” I hadn’t been pre­tend­ing when I clung to him and snuggled close to his chest, feel­ing safe and warm and pro­tec­ted for the first time in years.

Some­how I had hon­estly fallen into “Little-space” and had gone to a place in­side my­self I hadn’t even known was there. In that place, a hungry little girl lived—a girl who was starved for love and af­fec­tion from a strong, lov­ing man. A man she could de­pend on to never leave her, a pro­tector and de­fender. A man who would kill or die to keep her safe. Someone who could be a father…a part­ner…a lover…a friend.

A man she could trust.

You can trust Salt, whispered a little voice in my head.

Sure I could—to be my part­ner. But he’d just said we were only pre­tend­ing. He was just play­ing his part—the part of my “Papa”—and he thought I was do­ing the same. He didn’t know that the little girl—that mishka—was real and was really a part of me. Even now I could see her, sit­ting on the curb in her pretty new party dress, the one her Daddy had bought her for the Valentine’s Day dance. Her thin shoulders slumped, her eyes red and hope­less as she looked down the street, wait­ing for a man who would never ar­rive. Wait­ing for a father who was never com­ing back.