“I don’t think that man likes you,” Paige chirps.
“Probably so.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t like when other people don’t like me. What about you, Honey?”
“I guess I haven’t thought about it but it’s not a nice feeling, is it? Mr. Chan seems to be taking it okay.”
“Daddy says Mr. Chan doesn’t have feelings, and that’s why he never gets mad. Daddy says that if he was more like Mr. Chan, he wouldn’t be in so much trouble. Do you think that’s right, Mr. Chan?”
Johnny talks a lot of shit, I realize, but he does tend to run his mouth, and that’s probably why he’s lying on his back hooked up to a couple machines. He’s lost matches because someone whispered some trash thing in his ear, and he couldn’t shake it off. “I guess he’s not wrong.”
“I’m sure Mr. Chan has feelings, Paige. All people have feelings, only some are better at hiding them than others.” Honey peeks over her shoulder at me.
If she’s worried about me, she shouldn’t be. Honey needs to save that energy for herself because it’s taking a lot out of me not to stare at her ass as it swings from side to side. My mind’s already envisioning how sweet it will be to strip off her clothes, grab that ass in both hands and pound into her with all ten inches of my hard, aching cock.
“We should stop by the hospital and see how your daddy’s doing, Paige. You down with that?” I want to make sure the nurses are giving him the right amount of care so he can be up on his feet, and I can have Honey flat on her back.
“That’d be nice, Mr. Chan.”
“Great.” I toss Honey’s bag into the rear of the SUV. She can’t have more than one change of clothing in there. “We’ll stop at the Melting Pot for dinner after.”
“Can I have ice cream?”
“Sure.”
“For dinner?”
“Sure.”
“No.”
“No?” I ask, looking at Honey.
She flushes but doesn’t turn her gaze away from mine. God, she’s hot. I want to swoop in and taste those cherry red lips of hers. I wonder how red her pussy lips are and what flavor her cunt is. Tangy and sweet, I bet. Her tongue darts out to lick her lip. I groan.
“Mr. Chan, you’re growling again.” Paige’s disapproving voice cuts through my fog of lust.
Honey comes to her senses, too. “No. Ice cream is for dessert. After you eat some dinner, then you can have ice cream.”
She buckles a disgruntled Paige into her seat and then climbs in beside her, avoiding my gaze. I let the door close and stare up at the sky until my hard-on subsides. Maybe keeping my hands off Honey’s fine ass is going to be harder than I think.
Chapter Eight
Honey
“I’ve never been so full,” Paige says as Bear carries her into the house.
“They barely gave us anything to eat,” Bear grunts.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. I don’t think he knew what he was in for when he suggested we go to the Melting Pot. They serve fondue there, and you have to cook everything yourself.
When they brought out the main course of raw meat selections, Bear was adorably confused. Not only because he had to cook it himself but mostly because of the small portion size. I’m sure a man of Bear’s size could eat a twenty-ounce ribeye and still have room for more.
It was the dessert section that filled Paige up. Instead of cheese, they serve chocolate fondue with a variety of things to dip into it. Paige was more than willing to try them all. We let her have whatever she wanted since she ate a good portion of her dinner.
“We should go back tomorrow.” Paige groans.
Watching the two of them together is making my ovaries ache. Along with a few other parts of me. Bear is good with her, but I can see why he needs a nanny. He more fits the role of an uncle, not a primary caretaker. He’s not really great at enforcing the rules. He may seem big and tough, but that little girl already has him wrapped around her finger. I don’t even think he realizes it yet. I was the one who had to cut the chocolate off. Paige would have gone until she threw up if I hadn’t.
“Maybe next week,” I chime in before Bear can cave to her. He gives me a grateful look.
I follow him into the house and up the stairs. He pushes open a bedroom door, carrying Paige in to lay her down on her bed. She pops up the second he puts her down.
“I think it’s time for PJ’s and teeth brushing.”
“I don’t wanna.” She moans, falling back onto the bed.
“Then I guess I don’t wanna read you a bedtime story,” I say. Paige loves storytime at school, so I’m guessing she also loves a story before bed.