Chapter Fourteen

Willow

I show up to the restaurant at 6:00 in the evening.

As I walk in, I think Chloe and Braydon are smiling at me, but they're not. They don't notice me yet. They're smiling at Shawn.

He's freaking here!

I guess he walked in a few paces ahead of me, because he's approaching their table now. Or rather I should say tables. A couple have been moved together to accommodate the large party. Mom and Dad are here, too, along with one of my grandmas. Braydon's mom and stepdad are here, as well.

"Dad!" Braydon says, as he wraps Shawn up in a tight hug.

"Hey, son. Good to see you."

They notice me now, too.

"Hey!" Chloe says.

"Hey," I say.

Shawn turns to realize it's me and offers a polite smile and a friendly nod, but there's no letting onto the fact that we kissed. Or that he spanked me. And changed my diaper.

Thankfully.

That would be totally gross to talk about in front of our families.

"I didn't realize this was a family affair," Shawn says, in his usual affable tone.

"Yeah," Chloe says. "We hadn't seen everyone since the wedding, and we wanted to get y'all together in one place. Since OKC is between Norman and Guthrie, we thought this would work for everybody."

"Glad you had that idea," Shawn says. "Been missing you two. And it's always good to see everyone."

He smiles toward my parents, his ex, and my grandma. They all wave back.

He hugs his son again and then hugs Chloe.

Being in love with Shawn, it's easy to forget he's my sister's father-in-law. In my mind, he's just become Daddy.

My Daddy.

Seeing them together reminds me, though, and it feels really strange. I choke that down and try to remain as neutral and normal seeming as possible.

But as fate would have it—or luck—I end up right across from Shawn at the only two spots left at the table.

This is going to be interesting.

***

It took about five minutes to hug my parents and grandma—they all wanted to know what I've been up to and how my summer class is going—but now I'm finally sitting down.

Shawn has his readers on, studying the menu.

"Hello, Willow," he says casually, not even bothering to look up at me.

Nothing strange here, folks. Just a guy with a young lady he barely knows, making pleasant chit-chat as we wait to order.

Around us, our families are talking in various conversations. No one is paying attention to me and him. We have privacy, but not too much, as it wouldn't be hard for someone to overhear.

Do I play it cool?

Or do I mention what happened a few days ago at the club?

My stomach is in knots! I'm not even sure I'll be able to eat. I need to try. I don't want to draw attention to myself.

"Hi, Shawn," I respond.

The server interrupts the conversation—or sort of conversation—and drops off our drinks and takes our orders. Once he's gone, Shawn says, "I'm glad to see you're sticking with lemonade tonight."

I laugh. "Hey, that rehearsal dinner was one time. Alcohol doesn't usually affect me like that."

"Do you usually have four?"

I giggle. "No."

"Good. One or two is the right amount for a little girl like you."

I blush and look around to make sure no one heard. They didn't. I look back at Shawn and read his facial expression, realizing he didn't mean to call me that.

He just can't help himself around me. Mmm.

I can't help myself around him, either.

But we manage to both keep the conversation super casual over the next few minutes. We talk to those around us, too, sometimes even having conversations across people. It's a typical family gathering.

Well, typical except for the fact that two participants desperately want to throw themselves at each other.

The tension between us is thick.

He's having a hard time restraining himself. I can see it in his eyes. Plus, his body language is a bit tense, his movements stiff. He finally excuses himself, stating he needs to take a call.

Everyone else is talking—my grandma telling a story about the time she met the actor James Garner walking around downtown Norman, and my sister talking to Braydon's mom about Braydon's habit of leaving towels on the floor—when I quietly excuse myself and walk toward the restaurant's patio where Shawn is leaning against the wooden railing, looking out over a well-manicured lawn that has a firepit and a couple of cornhole games set up.

"Your call already over?" I say, stepping outside. Of course, I know he didn't really have a call. But I want to press him and see where this leads.

He turns around and grins wryly. "Little girls should mind their own business."

I come up next to him and put my arms on the railing, leaning on it and looking down on the small yard. No one is playing the games right now. It's too hot.

The air is still. Despite being in the middle of the city, it's quiet out here. I can hear Shawn's breathing. I swear I can feel energy radiating off him, too. He's wound up tight.

So am I.

It feels like we're primed and ready to explode, just waiting for that spark of fire that ignites a massive inferno.

I put my hand on his strong arm. "Shawn, I—"

"Don't touch me. Please. For your own good."

My jaw falls loose. It takes me a few seconds to recover enough to say, "Why?"

He turns now, looking at me. I shift, too, until our eyes are locked. "Because I can't stop myself. Don't you see? I'm powerless against a little girl. I've got no defense. But I can't give in. I have to—"

"Shawn," I say, squeezing his arm.

And that's when it happens. Quicker than I can comprehend, I've been forced to the wall, shoved up against it, his body pinning me here, his hand going up my sun dress and landing between my legs.

He presses in on my panties.

"Is this what you want? Huh? For me to lose control right here in front of everybody?" he asks, pushing his index finger against my cotton covered labia.

I gasp. There's something unhinged in his eyes—something burning fiercely.

"Daddy," I moan, running my hand up and down his arm, begging him to continue the invasion of my space.

"I'm warning you, little girl," he growls.

I tilt my head back, grinding against him, moaning.

His finger pushes my panties aside and traces my slit before plunging into my sopping valley.

I cry out loudly. If anyone is around, they can hear. One of our family members could easily walk right out those glass patio doors and see everything!

But I don't care. I'm incapable of it right now. I want this man to use me. To utterly destroy me. To make me his by any means necessary.

He lets out a guttural groan as his finger continues to penetrate me, sloshing in my flowing valley. He probes me for a minute, bringing me so close to climax, before he comes to his senses and retracts.

"I…have to go," he says.

"Shawn! Wait!" I cry as he's walking away.

He casts a furrowed glance over his shoulder and says, "Like I said, I can't control myself, little girl."

I give myself a moment to recover, breathing deeply as I try to collect my wits—and stave off the frustrated tears—before heading back inside.

He's gathered his stuff and is telling everyone goodbye.

"You can't stay and eat, Dad?" Braydon asks.

"I'm sorry, son," Shawn says with an apologetic smile. "But I need to get to the hospital. It's an emergency." He shakes his head, "One of the drawbacks of my profession, I'm afraid." He pulls out his wallet and plops a credit card down. "But dinner is on me. For everyone."

Protests erupt from the family, but Shawn holds up his hands. "No arguing, guys. I'll get the card back from Braydon."

He waves and hurries away, leaving me to pant and wonder what would have happened if he had stayed.

Emotionally, I'm a wreck now.

I need him to wreck me physically, too. But I need more than that. I need him to be my Daddy.

Forever and Ever.