Page 32 of Born Daddy

The effort not to cringe at his last sentence was huge, but he believed he’d been successful. Rogan was startled at the expression Tate radiated back at him. It was as if Rogan had announced he was taking him to Disneyland.

“Okay, I can do that.” Tate grinned. “I have my cell and keys already. Do you think I need anything else?”

It might be the barest of glimpses, but a hint of what the dynamic had been like between Cam and Tate emerged.

“Maybe a light jacket, if you have it?”

“Sure. I’ll go grab one now.”

Tate disappeared back into the apartment, leaving Rogan to dissect the moment between them. Tate’s thrill at being given permission to do something Rogan had suggested was startling. But his unquestioning obedience? That had been a revelation. Tate’s description of how he never challenged Cam when he was gone long hours, or ever pressed him for details of his absence exposed an important aspect of who Tate was. Tate would go along with whatever anyone he handed power to would ask of him.

A shudder ran through Rogan at how fucking dangerous that could be.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Tate appeared out of the darkness, holding up a denim jacket. “It’s a little frayed, but the only other one I have is a leather one.”

Tate stared expectantly at Rogan. Rogan’s eyes darted to the jacket then back to Tate again.

“Uh, right. No, I think this one is better than the leather one for where we’re going.”

Tate’s smile returned and he went about locking up his apartment. Once they’d made their way to Rogan’s truck and gotten inside, he’d come up with a new way to handle the excursion to subtly answer the need Tate had to be submissive.

Instead of asking Tate, he’d direct him. Not from the standpoint of not caring what Tate’s likes and dislikes were, but because he sensed it would offer Tate some calm. As they got to know each other better, he’d discover what Tate’s preferences were. That way, he could make better decisions.

He wondered if that was the tactic Cam had taken, or if it had only ever been about what Cam wanted. The urge to start interrogating Tate scratched under his skin, but it wasn’t time. Not yet. Rogan shifted in his seat and gripped the wheel tighter as he pulled from the curb.

What the fuck am I doing?

He shook his head, frowning to himself. None of what he was mulling over was appropriate. Not one damn thing. Yet, he couldn’t seem to quell the compulsion to slide into this mysterious world where he could make someone so happy by merely telling them what to do.

Rogan swiped at the beads of sweat forming on his upper lip then reached for the air conditioner, raising the fan a tick. He curled his fingers around the wheel again and wondered what madness had taken over his mind. Whatever was driving him to travel down this mystifying path needed to stop.

What had happened to his resolution not to get too close to Tate? In Tate’s reality, Rogan’s behavior would be interpreted as more than friendly interest.

He needed to knock it the fuck off.

Rogan sucked in a deep breath. “Wouldn’t you like to know where we’re going?”

He glanced sideways at Tate who was smiling happily as he stared ahead, clutching his jacket in a ball against his middle.

“No, that’s all right. I trust you.”

Dammit. “Well, we’re going to Nantasket Beach. I thought it might be nice to get out of the city, be in different surroundings. What about you? Do you think that’s a good idea?”

In his peripheral vision, Rogan caught Tate’s confused expression, his head tilted as he regarded him.

“S-sure.”

Tate’s shoulders had slumped, his mouth had turned down and he now clutched his jacket as if it were a life preserver. Rogan’s heart clenched and he wanted to kick his own ass. So what if the kid liked having someone else take the lead? Not everyone was built the same. Why was he making such a big fucking deal out of it?

It wasn’t as if he’d minded being in charge, either. As a matter of fact, knowing that Tate was entrusting himself to Rogan, that he’d helped make Tate happy, had been a rush. He never would’ve guessed he’d have that sort of reaction, but then again, he supposed he’d always been the type who took the lead in most situations.

What the fuck. Why not take the lead when he hung out with Tate? It didn’t mean they were engaged. Rogan snorted to himself. He’d been taking the lead with Lenny for years, and there’dcertainly never been any hint of desire between them coming from either side. What was his fucking problem?

“Uh, so…” Rogan desperately wanted to bring Tate back to the space he’d been in before Rogan had opened his big mouth. “Have you been to Nantasket before?”

God, he knew so little about Tate’s upbringing.

Tate let out a long exhale and Rogan berated himself again for stressing out the young man.

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