Page 42 of Awakening His Daddy

The shower turns off, and I hear Joe heave an exasperated sigh.

Shit! I run to the living room but stop running when my stitches pull. My arm is the part that hurts the most, so I kind of forgot about my shoulder. I smile when I see the roaring fire in the hearth. Joe must have stoked it before he got in the shower.

I stumble to the couch and notice it’s still snowing. The snow is halfway up the back patio door and swirling in the wind. It’s awhiteout, and I might be a tiny bit worried. Leo said he stocked the cabin, but what if the power goes out? What about heat? Will we freeze to death? I suppose we could huddle together for warmth. That idea doesn’t sound so bad.

I gasp and clutch my heart as a large, rough hand lands on my shoulder.

“You should still be in bed,” Joe says softly.

I turn to him and damn, he looks hot. His damp hair looks artfully messy, and his skin is flushed from the warm water. He’s wearing a tight black tee and buffalo-plaid pajama pants.

“You look like you should be in one of my Christmas movies.” I’m practically drooling over him.

He chuckles. “This would make a pretty good story. You got hurt. I came to rescue you, and we got snowed in.” He nods to the windows.

“Yeah, but I won’t get the guy in the end.” I huff, but then turn serious. “Will we be okay? It’s a lot of snow.”

“We’ll be fine. There’s plenty of food, firewood, and candles. I should warn you though, the power will probably go out at some point.”

“Really? And we’ll still be okay?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

“You shouldn’t keep saying Daddy things if you don’t want to be my Daddy.”

“Maybe you could tell me later about what being a Daddy means.” My mouth opens, and a million things are going to come tumbling out, but he puts his finger up to my lips. It’s rough andwarm and my tongue darts out to lick it. His eyes flare with what looks like desire.

He tastes so clean, and it’s so nice until he takes it away. I pout, and he chuckles.

“I think you’re due for more meds and?—”

“Wait.”

I run into the bathroom and struggle to get my stupid boxers down.

When did I take my pants off? Did Joe undress me?

Did he see my dick?

Did he like the look of it?

No, I’m peeing right now. No hard-ons.

I finish going potty, and I work to get my boxers back up. Then I look at the sink and realize I can’t wash my hands, or brush my teeth, and how am I supposed to shower?

I sit on the floor in a huff.

There’s a quiet knock on the door. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.” Tears are running down my face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do anything with this stupid cast.” I flop down on to the cold tile floor. “I can’t even wash my hands.”

“I’m here to help you.”

“It’s not fair.” I pout and lie face down on the floor.

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