Page 14 of Daddy's Lesson
“What do you wear to bed?”
“Oh usually just a college T-shirt, and…” my gaze dropped as I realized what I was about to admit. “My ex-husband’s boxers.”
Before Lennon could say anything, I rushed to explain. “It’s not like a holding onto him thing, they were old, and too small, so I commandeered them years ago. They’re mine now, really.”
Lennon simply shook his head. “A work shirt and hand-me-downs. That won’t do.” He walked to a rack and held up a set of pale pink pajamas in soft satin. “Something like this, I’m thinking.”
I frowned. The set was beautiful, and the type of thing I’d always look at longingly, then leave on the rack, because who really needed extravagant pajamas? “What’s the rule? I have to go to bed ready for sex?”
Lennon scoffed. “If I was thinking about sex, Zoe, we’d be in a different section altogether, and I’d have a rule about you going to bed naked.” His gaze raked over me like he was undressing me with his eyes, and I squirmed uncomfortably. He shook his head with a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “The rule is about indulging yourself. Every night this week, you are going to have a nighttime routine of self-care and indulgence. A long bath with bubbles or fancy bath salts, satin pajamas, maybe a glass of expensive wine…”
“I don’t drink,” I informed him. “Never have.”
His brows shot up to his hairline, and for the first time since the café I caught a glimpse of the party boy I remembered, but he seemed to quickly recover from his surprise. “Okay, chocolates? And… herbal tea?”
“I mean… chocolates are always good. And I do like tea, but I don’t drink it at night because of the caffeine.”
“Herbal tea. Got it.” He frowned. “They should have some at the specialty food shop, and chocolates, too. We’ll go there next.”
“Lennon, we don’t need to?—”
His warning glare stopped me short as I remembered his earlier promises. “Thank you, Daddy,” I said with a soft sigh, not quite sure I meant it.
“Good save,” Lennon whispered, pulling me close to his side. “And the only one you’ll get, so don’t forget again.”
“Yes, Daddy.” What else could I say?
“These pajamas,” he said, grabbing the hanger off the rack decisively. “And these ones.”
He grabbed a second pair in the same style, but these were a leopard pattern. I caught my breath. How did he know me so well? I secretly loved animal print, but never wore or bought it. My husband had always thought it was for ‘whores and hookers.’ I’d never pointed out that they were basically the same thing and had always left the animal print in the stores, admiring it from afar.
“And these, too.”
The last set he grabbed was a simple black brocade pattern with red trim. I opened my mouth to protest that I didn’t really need two sets, much less three, but the words died on my lips when I caught his stern, warning expression. He seemed to know me better than I knew myself.
With his choices made, he strode through the store again, this time stopping near the perfume counter at a display of luxurious lotions and bath salts. He eyed me, sizing me up. “Not lavender,” he mused. “Too basic.”
“It gives me headaches,” I confirmed.
“Mint and rose.” He grabbed two large glass jars with gold lids and fancy labels, then a bottle of lotion and a jar of bubble bath. “This should do.”
I bit my lip to keep myself from telling him that it was unnecessary, or too much. I hung back while he paid, forcing myself not to listen to the cashier when she gave the total. This particular department store wasn’t known for its reasonable prices.
When he was finished, he handed me the bag, and took my hand, leading me once again into the main part of the mall. My gaze wandered across the storefronts, pausing at the bookstore, and again at the store he’d said sold butt plugs. I’d thought it was just a teenager’s novelty store. I’d never been inside. I’d also never seen a butt plug, though I’d heard of them, of course. When we reached the specialty food store, he grabbed a basket and weaved through the displays to the section of gourmet teas and coffees.
“Bag or loose leaf?” he asked.
“Huh?” My mind had been stuck on his earlier threats, and I realized I hadn’t been listening. I followed his gaze and guessed at what the question had been. “Oh, bags, please.”
“Great.” Box after box of gourmet teas were tossed into a basket he held on his arm. Then before I could even peer at his selections, he moved onto the chocolates. “Truffles,” he mused, and I had to hide a smile. Once again, he’d guessed correctly.
Two small boxes of decadent truffles were placed in the basket beside the teas. He cast a glance at me, smirked, and added a third box. “For good measure,” he said. “Or, you know, chocolate emergencies.”
I wanted to scoff and tell him that chocolate emergencies were not a real thing, but chocolate was my weakness, and they totally were. I picked up a box from the shelf and nonchalantly flipped it over, hiding my sticker shock at the price and doing the match in my head. Math wasn’t my strong suit, and before I could make the calculations, he plucked it from my fingers and returned it to the shelf.
“Did you have something to say?” he asked with a smirk. There was a hunger in his eyes, and they twinkled with mirth, as if daring me to disobey.
“No, Daddy. Thank you.”