“Yes, babygirl.”
‘Did I ever thank you for not giving up on me?”
Tazzy shifted once and winced when her tender flesh pressed against his thigh. He chuckled softly and rubbed the sore spot with careful fingers.
“Sore?” he asked, voice warm with amusement and affection.
She nodded against his chest.
“You don’t need to thank me for breathing.”
“I don’t understand, Daddy.”
“Giving up on you would be like giving up on breathing. I need both in order to live.”
“I understand, Daddy. Can I tell you something else?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m very sore. But it’s not a bad sore. It’s a good sore. Like everything got cleaned out.”
“That is exactly what it was supposed to do,” he told her. “You were carrying a heavy burden. The guilt. The anger. The fear. Now it’s gone, and all that’s left is my good girl who knows her Daddy loves her and will always keep her safe.”
She lifted her head and looked at him with those beautiful eyes that still held a hint of vulnerability. “I know that now.”
“I will never give up on you, Tazzy. You’re my Sprite, and I’m your Daddy. I’m afraid you are stuck with me.”
A small smile tugged at her lips for the first time since they had come home. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. “I think I like being stuck with you, and I’m not afraid anymore.”
He captured her mouth in a slow, deep kiss that spoke of possession and promise and all the years they had yet to share. When he pulled back, her cheeks carried a fresh flush that had nothing to do with her spanking.
“We still have a lot to talk about,” he reminded her gently. “But not right now. Right now, you need to rest in your Daddy’s arms and know you are loved.”
Tazzy nodded and settled back against his chest with a contented sigh. She was finally back where she was always meant to be. No more fighting. Jaxon was home. Everything he’d done had been for her.
And her Daddy was right. Now was the time for being in his arms.
But the “resting” part… well, that wasn’t happening.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tazzy nestled deeper into Jaxon’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The spanking he had given her still had her bottom sore, but instead of leaving her drained, that throbbing had settled low in her belly and refused to leave. Every shift of her body sent little sparks of awareness racing over her skin.
She believed him in her heart now, not just her head. Every word. Every painful reason he had stayed away. And that belief had unlocked something inside her she had kept buried for eight long years.
She wanted him.
She wanted his hands on her bare skin, his weight pressing her into the mattress, and that deep, possessive voice in her ear telling her she was his. But after everything that had happened that day, and after all these years, she could not bring herself to simply ask for him to make love to her.
She turned her face and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck, letting her lips linger. When he gave a quiet rumble of approval, she smiled against his skin and did it again, this time adding the tiniest scrape of teeth. His arms tightened around her.
“Tazzy,” he warned, voice already rougher.
“Hmm?” She innocently shifted in his lap, making sure her tender bottom brushed against the growing hardness beneath her. “I’m just resting, Daddy. Like you said.”
Hand drifting down his chest, she let her fingertips trace the ridges of his rock hard abs through his shirt. There was no hurry, so she took her time. His muscles jumped under her touch while she hid a mischievous smile in his neck. His breathing quickened.
Straddling his lap, she pressed light kisses to his chest, making sure to rock her hips ever so slightly. As her nails scratched lightly down his side, the tight fist of his control started to fray.