How To Catch A Submissive (How To Series Book 1)

Chapter 32: Steele's Blackmail

Eric was startled awake by the sound of his Samsung galaxy smart phone, blasting the tune of OneRepublic's "Everybody Loves Me," as it did every morning...six thirty on the dot. With a weary groan, he turned over in bed and reached across the nightstand to silence the device. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, glancing over his shoulder when he heard a soft groan of debate from the other side of the bed. Just as he anticipated, he had woken his baby girl up. He sighed softly and scowled.

Amy exuded a long yawn, blinking a few times and looking over at him with a dazed, half-asleep expression. "Sir? What...what time is it?"

He turned over, setting his hand on her shoulder then her cheek, attempting to hush her. "Shhh...go back to sleep, baby," he whispered. "I'm just getting up to go to work. You sleep."

She smiled softly through her sleepiness then shut her eyes, settling in to go back to sleep.

"Let me check this heart," he whispered, more to himself than her, pressing two fingers to her carotid artery.

She drew in a sharp breath, a soft and content moan escaping her.

He sighed softly, hoping she would stay still long enough to let him do so. While his action was probably enough to make her wet, it was for the preservation of his own sanity. His eyes darted from side to side, forehead wrinkling in thought as he felt the beats pumping strongly against his skin. With the satisfaction that she was doing well enough for the time being, he pulled his fingers away, pressed a kiss to her cheek then pulled the covers a little higher. He didn't want her catching a cold. As she curled closer to him and her pillow, he smiled softly. She looked so cute, so innocent, almost like a child when she was sleeping.

His gaze wandered away from her and fell upon the end table, where her smart phone sat. A little voice in the back of his mind was telling him to pick it up, to look at it. He didn't know why, but something told him that his bratty little Amy was hiding something. He had this feeling, a feeling that had been stirring in his gut ever since their dinner Sunday night.

This constant paranoia, he blamed on Neal, his convict brother, whose scruffy face he saw staring back at him every time he looked in the mirror. Forcing himself to get a grip and resist the pressing urge to go snooping around in her business, he turned and got up from the bed. He slipped into the master bathroom, dropped his pants and stepped into the shower.

The hot water didn't do much to wash away his looming suspicions. The suspicion that his dick head cousin was having an affair with his new sub, but it definitely helped give him that extra boost of energy he needed to get through his workday. He still had to pick up his regular Italian Roast on his way there. As popular as he was at probing pussy, for a doctor residing in the greater Los Angeles area, he needed a damn good cup of coffee.

Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out of the shower, drying himself off then wrapping a towel around his waist. He stepped in front of the mirror, taking another fifteen minutes to blow dry his hair, run a comb through it, shave, floss, brush his teeth then splash on some Paco Rabanne 1 Million cologne. This was his regular morning routine.

When that was done, he stepped out of the master bathroom to find Amy in a rather restless sleep. He scowled, wondering if she was having a nightmare or whether he had simply been making too much noise. The adjoining bathroom didn't exactly have a door. For a few long seconds, he stood there, staring across the room at her, at her cell phone, the temptation to pick it up still getting the better of him. She might wake up, she might not. Should he really risk it for some peace of mind?

Reminding himself he was wasting precious time, his feet carried him into the walk-in closet, where he proceeded to piece together an outfit for the day. He settled on a plum button down shirt with a matching black vest, tie, slacks, suit jacket, socks, and leather Italian made shoes. Adding the final touch, he grabbed a black Fedora, flipping it onto his head with a flick of his wrist. With a tug on the brim of his hat, he smiled deviously at his reflection in the mirror then turned and strutted out into the bedroom. Too bad Amy couldn't see him this way, all fresh and ready for work.