
Blurb
Michael Bourgeon is a talented artist, young and gorgeous, a stinking rich heir from a well-connected family. He’s the infamous libertine behind the most extravagant parties in Manhattan, and his exploits often lead to juicy tabloid stories. Enjoying his wealth and freedom to the fullest, Michael has the world at his feet.
Until someone tries to kill him. Repeatedly. After a security breach among his own staff, he has run out of options where to hide while the FBI hunts the killer.
A high-profile private security expert Vincent Nowak is supposed to provide the miracle solution. And while Michael struggles with nightmares and anxiety due to the looming threat, Vincent becomes not only the ultimately reliable protector, but a wonderful distraction, too…
A small cabin in the woods, a cocky brat with a soft heart, his gruff, controlling bodyguard, and weeks of tension in a confined space.
A standalone novella based on the original short story Yes, Daddy. HAE, no cliffhangers.
“The rules, Michael.”
“I was literally ten steps away from the cabin, Vincent.” I wanted to defend myself more, but my voice sounded shaky and weak. I snapped my mouth shut.
His hand on my neck tightened, and he pushed me through the door. I stumbled but regained my balance. Vincent shut the door behind us and turned to me.
“Did you do it to rile me up, Mikey?” His expression stayed suspiciously neutral.
“No,” I answered honestly. “I was just bored. You were in your room doing whatever, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“My work here is for nothing if you don’t follow the rules.”
I knew it wasn’t his intention, but the command in his voice did things to me. I licked my lips. Don’t think about the fear. You’re safe. Look at him. His shoulders are rising with angry breaths, his eyes flashing with fury. He’s gorgeous…
“Fucking hell, Mikey. I mean it!”
“I’m sorry.” I was getting hard. He was magnificent when he was pissed at me.
“Stop looking at me like that. This is serious.”
“I know.” But I couldn’t help it. My nipples were tingling, and I had to swallow. “Will you punish me?”
“No, you fucking incubus. I’m not rewarding you for endangering yourself on a whim, dammit. You will follow the rules, Michael. How is it possible that if I tell you to keep your hands off your dick, you obey me, but if I ask you to be reasonable so I can keep you alive, you don’t care?”
He was frustrated with me. Shit. It seemed like I wasn’t getting any tonight. My nerves quivered again, my anxiety looming close. Double shit.
“My people report to me every day about everything and anything that happens in the area,” Vincent said. “It takes quite a lot of effort, but it means I can let you out to breathe sometimes. If you do this again, I’ll fucking lock you in the panic room for the rest of the week, I swear.”
“I’m really sorry, Vincent. I won’t do it again.”
He shook his head and took a deep breath, bracing his hands on his hips.
“You are the client from hell, you know that?” His words were hard, but his voice sounded gentle.
Yeah, I wouldn’t want to babysit myself either. “I can double your pay.”
He chuckled at that. “No money can compensate for what you’re doing to me, Mikey.”
I drew in a breath. I was lousy at expressing emotion. Seriously, complete shit at that part. I mean, in sex, I could tell anything and everything, but actual feelings? This man worked tirelessly to keep my stupid head intact, and I only made it more difficult for him from the start because I was a sex-crazed, twisted nervous wreck. I had no words to explain to him how grateful and how sorry I was.
So I stripped naked in the middle of the room and knelt on the floor while Vincent stared, mouth parted, eyes burning. I bent my head in complete submission, arms hanging limply by my sides, and spoke quietly.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy. I promise I won’t break the rules again. Please, forgive me.”
I closed my eyes and waited.


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