The air in the bathroom was freezing, but my skin was boiling. Vaughan didn’t move, neither did he blink. He just watched me tremble in the tub, my fingers still buried inside my own heat. I felt like a deer caught in headlights. Busted.
"Out," he commanded. It wasn't a request; it was a cold, hard order.
I scrambled out of the water, my skin dripping and slick. I grabbed a white towel, wrapping it tight around my chest, my heart thumping so hard I thought I might faint. He turned on his heel and walked out. I followed him, my bare feet slapping against the floor.
"I'm sorry," I begged, my voice cracking. "Daddy, please. I didn't mean to. I just—the session—I couldn't stop thinking about it. I'm sorry, please."
Vaughan stopped in the hallway. He turned to look at me, his eyes dark and
