“You’re being mean,” Haley accused boldly. She crossed
her arms over her chest and tilted her face up, revealing
streaks of flour on her other cheek, a smudge by her hairline,
and a healthy amount on her shirt right where she was pressing
up her breasts. “I already said it’s my fault. No need to take it
out on Jean. He’s just being nice. I’m new here and this is hard
enough as it is. I wanted to get to know everyone, and he was
making bread when I walked in here and I couldn’t resist. You
never said I couldn’t come into the kitchen. You said I wasn’t
a prisoner, and I’m trying very hard not to be one.”
Claire choked back anger and astonishment. How fucking
dare this woman talk to her like that in her own house? She
was not here as a guest, no matter that she wasn’t a prisoner.
She couldn’t breeze in and walk around like she was the queen
of the place.
You spoiled little brat.
“So that’s it, then.” Claire’s tone was ice. “You came in here
just to spite me.”
Haley’s chin jutted up another inch and her eyes blazed with
defiance. “No. I came in here for exactly the reasons I just
stated. We haven’t harmed anything and nothing about this is
wrong. A mess can be cleaned up just fine.”
She’d probably never been punished in her life. Her
grandparents were too lenient, and her father gave her
whatever she wanted. The thought of turning her around,
pinning her hands to the countertop and spanking her ass red
shouldn’t hold so much appeal. It shouldn’t hold any appeal.
Haley was looking at her like she’d never seen a kitchen
before, and like she might never see one again. As much as
Claire wanted to deny her this just because it was in her power