Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 38973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
I softly smiled at him, warmth sliding through me at his confession. “You can touch me whenever you want, sweet boy. What’s your name?”
He stared at me for a moment. I waited patiently. He was obviously cautious, especially since he didn’t know me. I was a stranger, and he was in a strange home. “You tell me your name first,” he finally said.
I chuckled. He was a little force to be reckoned with. “Gunner Matthews. Former Marine.”
He screwed his nose up. “Of course,” he muttered. “And let me guess, you escaped to the mountains to live like a wild animal away from society because you can’t stand people anymore?”
I barked out a surprised laugh. He was being bratty and snarky, but fuck, I loved it. He had the wrong man if he thought he was ever going to truly rile me up. I was a Daddy through and through, and I loved bratty boys. I would never try to tame a brat. Being bratty was part of their personality.
“I like going into town,” I told him. He rolled his eyes. “And I don’t mind people. But I also like solitude. I’m far enough up the mountain that no one bothers me, and I’m close enough to town if I need anything or if I just feel like being out and about.” His nails bit into my skin for a moment, but I didn’t even flinch. He soothed the sting immediately after, stroking his fingertips over the abused skin. “Now, your name?”
He sighed. “Ace,” he said, not giving his last name. He swayed a moment, and I gripped his shoulder, holding him up. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
I snatched the trashcan from beside my bed and held it up just as he emptied his stomach. Hot tears streaked down his pale face once he was done, and he covered his face, like he was trying to hide from me. God, it made my heart hurt. He should never feel ashamed for being sick.
“Hey,” I said gently, setting the trash can back on the floor. “Easy, sweet boy. It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot, and your head injury seemed pretty bad. Just breathe.”
“Stop looking at me,” he croaked, his voice thick with tears.
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “I’m not doing that, Ace baby. Look at me.”
“No,” he snapped before he sniffled.
I placed my hand on his thigh. He jerked in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. “Ace, look at me,” I commanded again, my voice a bit firmer this time.
“Fuck off.” His voice was muffled by his hands, but I heard him loud and clear. He clearly didn’t feel good. I knew he was in pain. And he was lashing out. Whatever this boy had been through, he was still struggling to cope with it all. And he’d obviously been neglected, too. The thought of someone neglecting him made me… murderous.
“What we’re not going to do is be a dick because we’re hurting and we don’t feel good,” I told him sternly. That made his head snap up, and his pupils dilated the slightest bit. I cupped his damp cheek and swiped away some tears, my eyes steady on his. “Let’s get some soup and crackers in your belly, and then, you can come right back up here and snuggle beneath all these warm blankets and get some more rest, okay?”
Slowly, he nodded. Leaning forward, I pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, then got off the bed. I held my hand out to him, waiting for him to let me help him up. He stared at my hand for a good minute before he wrapped his smaller fingers around mine, allowing me to gently pull him up from the mattress.
Once we were downstairs, I led him to the dining room table, then snatched the throw blanket off the back of the couch to wrap around his shoulders. He was tense as he watched me move around the kitchen, and when I set the bowl of soup in front of him and a pack of saltine crackers beside it, he scrunched his nose up.
“That better not be a poor, innocent deer,” he muttered.
Planting my hands on the table, I leaned into him, arching a brow. “Are you going to fight me on this? Because I’ll force feed you, Ace baby. Don’t test me. You need food, and the soup will heat you up a bit more. And it’s been known to soothe my own stomach, so it’ll probably help you, too.”
He huffed. “Stop Daddying me,” he muttered. But he picked up his spoon like a good boy.
I ran my hand over his hair, being careful to avoid his injury. And God, the way he leaned into me… Like he didn’t even realize he was doing so. I was so done for already.