Page 48 of Daddy's Mail Order Mate

“Right—sorry. I, um. Rowan puked a bit, and I cleaned him up for the most part, but between that and the trip he could use a bath. We haven't specifically discussed if you're alright with me doing that or not.”

“Ah,” he replies, reaching out to gently stroke his son's head and get a good look at him. “Yeah. I’ll wash him. Could you start the bath? There's a tote in the bathroom closet that has all his things. Warm water, not too hot, and keep it low. I'll be there in a few minutes.”

He's so fucking hot when he dotes on his son. At that thought, I silently choke on my tongue a bit. When did I ever have a thing for DILFs? Apparently that's been rattling around in whatever box I'd crammed my libido into. It really feels like my life is just a parade of surprises lately, and this absurd little note is just the cherry on top.

Rowan seems pleasantly excited when I set him down and get the bath going. A small smile twitches across my face.

“You like bath time, huh little guy?”

I know he doesn't understand me, but the merry giggle I get in reply is just the sweetest thing.

Thorn walks into the bathroom not long after, and I have to actually swallow salive when I see him. The bastard’s taken off his button up and now he's just in a tightly fitting tank top he'd had on for his undershirt. I can even see the ridges of his abs and the tip of his nipples beneath the fabric. Did he have to paint that on this morning?

“The audacity,” I deadpan without realizing.

“What?”

Shit—I didn't mean to say that out loud.

“Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at me in careful consideration, but I try to salvage my pride by bee-lining it for the door and calling out after me to end the entire interaction before it can go completely awry.

“Call if you need anything.”

I don't look back. He doesn't need to see how red in the face I am after that slip up. After that, I'm more than a bit paranoid and force myself into a state of careful vigilance whenever I’m around him. Thanks to that, dinner tonight is composed of silence and maybe thirty words between the two of us; I’m too cautious about saying something stupid to offer much in way of conversation, and Thorn doesn't seem inclined to be too chatty himself.

I think that maybe I've managed to figure out a decent defense against my wild magnetism towards him by the time I'm putting Rowan down to bed. But once again, practically like clockwork, Thorn has to ruin my delicate balance by the sheer fact he exists.

“Thank you,” he murmurs behind me, close enough that I almost whimper from how it rushes down my spine.

I bite the inside of my lips together and nod.

“Work… Did your work go alright today?”

He hums.

“Fine enough.”

“Good.”

I carefully turn around and find him turning on the baby monitor nearby. In the soft lighting of the nursery, he looks positively dreamy. It's mind boggling to see such a serious and powerful looking man in such a domestic backdrop, and when you pair that with the gentle golden glow highlighting his handsome face, it's undeniable just how damned attractive he is.

He glances down at me and my breath catches.

The quiet that passes between us feels unexpectedly heavy, and I tense when I see his eyes briefly flicker down from my face to my body for just a brief moment.

“Are you… Going to bed soon?”

I look away and smooth some of my curls behind an ear in an old fidgeting habit of mine. I thought I stopped doing that years ago. But it seems Thorn brings out a lot of me I’d thought I'd grown out of or forgotten.

“Yeah.”

He doesn't say anything for a bit. It takes long enough that I sneak a curious glance up at him, wondering what might be brewing behind that silence. His expression seems quietly focused, perhaps even a bit strained.

“... Are you?”

Thorn’s hands grasp and rub at the edge of the crib in a slow, restless way.

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