Page 9 of Babe

With that, he descended the stairs. I quietly stepped out of his bathroom and followed him down the stairs into the living area. He pointed to the couch as he made his way to the kitchen. I scowled, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. “I’m not a dog.”

“Ace, don’t be a brat,” he warned me, his back to me as he faced the stove. “Sit down.”

I huffed. “I’m not a fucking brat.” And because I wanted to be goddamn difficult, I crossed my arms over my chest and began making my way back toward the loft. Didn’t matter that I wanted to be around him. I felt all exposed and raw and everything was too… different with him.

I squeaked when he suddenly latched his long, thick fingers around my arm and snatched me to a halt. I spun around to face him, my eyes feeling too big for my face as my heart slammed against my chest bone. He leaned down, his hand coming up to cup the side of my neck. His thumb stroked lightly over my Adam’s apple, and I swallowed, my dick rallying at his possessive, grounding touch.

“I don’t mind you being a brat,” he told me calmly. “I love a bratty boy.” My breath hitched in my throat. “But acting out because you’re confused and a little lost isn’t okay. I’m trying to give you structure. If you just do what I tell you, Ace baby, you’ll calm down, and you’ll feel a little better. I promise.”

I scoffed. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

He arched a brow at me. “I can spank you instead.”

Jesus fuck.

I liked the idea of that way too much. But I wasn’t sure my body could take it. My head was still hurting, and I feared a spanking would just make me throw up… again. That was still embarrassing. I couldn’t believe I’d vomited in front of him while he was holding the fucking trash can.

“No spanking,” I muttered, my defensive stance dropping.

He drew me to him and wrapped his arms around me. And fuck… I didn’t realize how much I just needed to be held. I wrapped my own arms around him, sinking into him and burying my face against his broad chest. He hummed and gripped the back of my neck, gently massaging the tense muscles there.

I had no idea how long we stood there for, but it was everything. Every muscle in my body seemed to go limp, and my eyelids fluttered closed. My fingers absently stroked over his back, just wanting to feel him and soak this in.

I didn’t give a fuck that I’d barely been around him mere hours—awake for a hell of a lot less of it. Didn’t give a fuck that it was probably way too soon to decide something like this. But I wanted Gunner. I wanted him as mine. My Papa. The man who loved me and took care of me and protected me from the rest of the world, even though I could definitely take care of myself now.

I just wanted him.

Eventually, he led me to the couch, where he had Transformers playing on the screen. Silently, he wrapped a blanket around me, then disappeared into the kitchen. I got comfortable, my eyes locked on the screen. I’d heard of the movie, but I’d only ever seen the first one. This one had different characters from the first, and so far, it seemed a lot better than the first movie.

“Here.”

I looked up at Gunner. He was taking a seat beside me on the couch, holding a bowl of soup in his hands. I reached for it, but he shook his head, so I dropped my hands back to my lap. When he lifted the spoon to my lips, my cheeks heated, but I opened my mouth, letting him feed me.

It was nice. Having him take care of me like this was so settling. So… freeing, oddly enough. I didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to remain on guard. Gunner just took care of everything.

Once the soup was finished and I’d eaten the remaining crackers from the pack I’d had earlier, Gunner pulled me close, allowing me to curl around him as his warmth seeped into me, bleeding through the blanket. I absently traced the tattoos on the backs of his hands, unable to not touch him when he was this close. And together, we watched the movie.

My mind shut off and let Gunner take over, and it was… it was the most relaxed I’d been since… well, since I could fucking remember. I wasn’t even this relaxed at home around my brothers and their significant others.

I glanced up at him from beneath my lashes, watching as the light from the TV flashed across his almost too-handsome features.

Gunner, what the fuck is so different about you?

“You need more rest,” Gunner said softly once the movie ended.

I huffed. “All I’ve been doing is sleeping,” I muttered, burrowing more into his big, burly chest.

He chuckled, his fingers sifting through my hair. I almost purred. “Yes, but God only knows how long you were laying on the ground. You got rained on. The temps dropped drastically last night. And you have a head injury. Sleep is a must, sweet boy.”

I looked up at him. “Do I have to go to bed by myself?” I boldly asked. I wasn’t ready to be apart from him. And strangely enough, I cared if he slept or not, too. I didn’t want him down here, laying on this couch. It wasn’t fair. And he was too big for it anyway.

He arched a perfect, blonde brow at me. “Do you want me to lay with you, Ace baby?”

Immediately, I clammed up. It was hard enough for me to ask him to come to bed with me. He didn’t have to put me even more on the spot. Shoving his arms from around me, I jerked to my feet, the blanket falling from my shoulders. “Forget I asked,” I muttered.

His arm banded around my waist before I could take one step away from him, and he yanked me down to sit on his lap. I snapped my eyes up to meet his. Even sitting down, he was so much bigger than me. He cupped my cheek, keeping our gazes locked. His eyes were a shade lighter than mine—almost icy. But there was so much warmth there. Warmth for me.

“What?” I grumbled, wishing I had the willpower to rip my eyes away.