Chapter Six
Jack
Click.
The shutter goes off again, and I have to bite back a groan.
“Princess,” I mutter, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “This is the twentieth picture. You trying to build a shrine?”
She lowers the camera just enough for me to catch her grin. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s the eighteenth.”
I glare at her, but the truth is, I don’t mind. Not one damn bit. If she wants to point that lens at me all day, I’d stand here like a statue just to see the light in her beautiful eyes. She looks alive when she’s behind that camera…focused, free, like the cage she grew up in never existed.
“Chin up,” she orders, her eyes squinting as she frames the shot. “A little to the left…yes, that’s it.”
I exhale hard through my nose. “You do realize I’m not a trained monkey, right?”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Her laugh is soft, genuine. The sound of it does things to me I don’t care to admit.
She snaps another photo.
“Keep that up,” I rumble, “and I’ll give you something better to capture.”
Her cheeks flush, and she fumbles with the focus, pretending not to hear me. But I see it…the way her breath hitches, the way her thighs press together. My lips twitch, fighting the smile threatening to break through.
Christ, she’s got me down bad.
Before I can think too much on it, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, already knowing who it is by the knot forming in my gut.
I answer. “Freeman.”
“Where the hell is she?” The senator’s voice booms so loud I have to hold the phone a little away from my ear. “I gave you one job, Steele. One damn job.”
Charlie freezes at the sound of her father’s voice, her camera lowering as she stares.
“She’s safe,” I say evenly, my gaze still locked on hers.
“Safe doesn’t mean hiding out in the woods with a hired gun,” he snaps. “I want her home. Tonight.”
My jaw tightens. “Dragging her back before putting proper security protocols in place puts her at risk. You hired me to keep her alive, Senator. That’s what I’m doing.”
“I hired you to follow orders,” he fires back. “And right now, my order is to bring my daughter home.”
Charlie flinches, but she doesn’t look away from me.
I rake a hand down my face, grinding my teeth to stop myself from giving in to the urge to punch the wall or something. “With respect, sir, that’s a mistake. Whoever made that attempt at the club—they weren’t drunk locals. Someone targeted her. Sending her back to DC paints a bullseye on her back.”
“Don’t lecture me on politics and security, Steele,” the senator says, his tone sharp. “Just do your damn job.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at the phone in my hand for a beat, the silence heavy. My gut already knew this call was coming, but I still hoped—hell, prayed—we’d have more time.
I slip the phone into my pocket, exhaling slowly, then glance at Charlie. She’s clutching her camera against her chest, her brows drawn, her lips parted like she’s trying to process what she just heard.
“What did he say?” she asks softly, though she already knows.
I drag my eyes over her face…those wide brown eyes, that stubborn chin, the flush still high in her cheeks from teasing me moments ago, and it fucking hurts. Hurts to know that any second, this fragile bubble we’ve built out here is going to burst.
“He wants you back.” My voice comes out rough, low. “Tonight.”
Her lips tremble, just slightly, before she bites down on them. “And what do you want?”
The question guts me. Because the answer is simple, and it’s everything I shouldn’t say.
I step closer, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes. “What I want is to keep you safe. End of story.”
But even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. I do want to keep her safe. But I also want more time. More mornings of her stealing my shirts. More laughter. More fire in her eyes when she calls me Daddy.
I want her.
And that’s the problem.
Her lips tremble, and before she can stop it, a tear slips free. Then another.
“Charlie…” My chest tightens like a fist is squeezing it.
She shakes her head, her camera sliding from her hands onto the couch with a soft thud. Her shoulders heave, tears slipping down her cheeks unchecked. “I don’t want to go back, Jack. I can’t. I can’t breathe in that house. Please, don’t take me back there…”
Her voice breaks on the last word, and it damn near kills me.
For one reckless second, I picture grabbing her hand, shoving her in the truck, and just driving. No orders, no senator, no politics. Just her and me against the world.
But that’s not who I am. That’s not the code I live by. A man without honor is nothing but a mercenary, and I swore I’d never be that again.
Still…the sight of her breaking rips through me like shrapnel.
“Christ, princess,” I rasp, dragging her into my arms. She comes willingly, pressing her wet face into my chest. My hand cups the back of her head, my thumb brushing her hair back, and I lower my mouth to hers.
This kiss isn’t fire. It isn’t rage. It’s slow, lingering, an anchor in the storm. She whimpers softly, clutching my shirt, and I kiss her again, wiping her tears with the pad of my thumb.
“You’re not alone anymore,” I whisper against her lips. “I’ve got you. Always.”
Her tear-filled eyes search mine like she’s trying to decide if I mean my words. I answer her without words, sliding my arms beneath her and lifting her easily.
“Jack?” Her voice is small.
“Shh.” I press a kiss to her temple as I carry her down the short hall. “Daddy’s going to take care of you.”
The bathroom is small, rustic, but the claw-foot tub in the corner is deep enough.
I set her down gently, turning on the taps until the water steams. She watches me through her lashes as I peel the shirt from her body, every movement careful, reverent, as if undressing something fragile and precious.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, kissing her shoulder, her collarbone, each word punctuated with my lips. She shivers, goose bumps rising along her skin.
I help her step into the tub, lowering her into the warm water. She sighs, head tipping back against the rim, but when her eyes flutter open again, they’re filled with heat, and trust. And tears.
I kneel beside the tub, wetting a washcloth and running it over her arms, her chest, the soft curves of her body. I keep my touch gentle, worshipful, but my cock strains painfully as I watch her arch into my hands.
“Jack…” she breathes, and that single sound wrecks me.
I drop the washcloth and reach out to cup her breasts, teasing her petal-soft nipples into tight buds. She gasps, then throws her head back with a soft moan.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” I whisper, running the pad of my thumb over one hardened bud.
I cup both breasts, then slightly flick the nipples with my fingers. She shivers, murmuring my name under her breath. I duck down, flicking my tongue over each puckered nipple, then close my mouth over her right nipple, suckling slowly.
Her body buckles, a whining sound escaping her lips. “Yes, Daddy,” she moans, arching her back, offering herself to me.
I tug on her nipple with my lips, fueled by her little throaty moans and my own desperate hunger.
I flick it with my tongue and suckle while cupping her other breast with my free hand, my thumb tracing circles on the sensitive underside.
Then I shift my mouth to her other nipple, grazing her with the edge of my teeth, then sucking hard.
“Oh, please! Daddy, please!” she screams, squirming against me.
I raise my head, flicking a nipple with my tongue, teasing her. “Please what, princess?
“I—I don’t know…I need you.”
I chuckle at the hint of frustration in her voice, then I return my attention to her breasts, sucking on a nipple as I smooth a hand down her body, over her stomach, and lower.
She buries her fingers in my hair as I spread her thighs, sliding my hand between her legs, a finger easily entering her slick entrance.
Her gasp echoes off the tiled walls as my thumb slides against her clitoris, slow and thorough. I hold her down as she writhes, my name falling from her lips in broken whimpers, her body trembling as I fuck her with first one finger, then two.
She comes apart fast, shattering in the water, her thighs squeezing my hand, her cry sharp and raw. I don’t stop until she’s limp, boneless, her chest heaving with every ragged breath.
Then I rise, shedding my own clothes in seconds, climbing into the tub with her. She curls instinctively into my lap, her wet body sliding against mine, and I groan at the feel of her slick heat against my cock.
I lift her, guiding her down onto me slowly, carefully. Her walls stretch around me, tight and perfect, and I grit my teeth, fighting for control.
She clings to me, her arms around my neck, her lips pressing desperate kisses to my jaw. “Jack…”
“I’ve got you, princess,” I rasp, moving inside her with slow, tender thrusts. “Daddy’s right here.”
The water laps over the sides as we move together, her soft cries mingling with my groans. This isn’t about possession or staking a claim—it’s about her. About giving her every ounce of the tenderness that she needs, that we both need, to navigate what’s to come.
Her lips find mine again, and I kiss her slow and deep, forgetting the world outside for a moment. Forgetting what was and what is to be. Right here, right now, it’s just her and me. Us.
And as she shudders around me, climaxing again with a soft, broken whimper, I know it’s going to be fucking hard to let go.