Page 65 of Born Daddy

Chapter Nineteen

Rogan shook out his hands, marveling at how nervous he was. All he was doing was making breakfast for them. How nerve-wracking could that be? Tate was in the shower—something Rogan had sent him to do—then they would sit down to their morning meal. He needed to calm the fuck down.

Since it was Saturday, he had all day to spend with his boy and focus on their new dynamic. His phone call the night before with Master Zane had helped ground him, give him the confidence to take things to the next level, but somehow, that hubris had all evaporated by morning.

He gathered all the ingredients for the spinach and cheese omelet that was his specialty, and the fresh strawberries and bananas that he’d slice up to go on the side. While Tate had become accustomed to doing a lot of the cooking for him and Cam, one of the items on the list was that Rogan wanted the chance to spoil Tate on the weekends.

They hadn’t discussed it specifically yet, but he hoped Tate would discover something he enjoyed doing with his extra time. One of Rogan’s personal goals as a Daddy was to help guide and encourage Tate to embrace his own interests outside of their relationship. Rogan would keep Tate at home and provide for him financially without hesitation, however, he’d never hold him back from pursuing a career or education if that was what Tate wanted.

“Hi, Daddy.”

Tate entered the room with a shy smile, dressed only in a pair of sweats with his toned frame and enticing V-line on display. His smooth, alabaster skin beckoned to Rogan, a canvas of flesh that had become increasingly difficult to resist when they would lie together in bed, Rogan holding Tate close and sometimes soothing him when the nightmares ripped him from sleep.

They hadn’t even kissed. The reality was that once Rogan’s lips touched Tate’s, any thoughts of holding back would be obliterated.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Rogan arched an eyebrow. “Did you clean yourself thoroughly?”

Tate bit his lower lip and moved a few steps closer. “I think so. But, you could always check and make sure.”

Rogan smirked at Tate. Where had this little imp appeared from?

“You’ve been warned about teasing Daddy, and since spanking doesn’t work as a punishment, it would be a shame for me to use one of the other options on the list.”

Red crawled up Tate’s neck and his features fell. Rogan wasn’t about to let on that his mind’s visual of inspecting Tate’s body for cleanliness had taken him from a semi to rock hard in a matter of a few seconds. He’d made sure to remain behind the counter. No point in encouraging him.

“Hey. Look at me.”

No matter the reason, it tore Rogan up to see Tate sad or worried. If he could somehow keep Tate from ever hurting again, he’d give his soul to make it happen. Tate lifted his gaze, his features still radiating concern.

Rogan offered him a smile. “I’m not angry, honey. I realize we’re still finding our rhythm, but the one thing you can count on above anything else, is that it takes a lot to get me truly mad. I don’t sweat the small stuff, never have.” He rubbed the back of his neck as something occurred to him. “What you saw from me the other night is not typical. I hope I didn’t scare you.”

Tate shook his head vehemently. “No, not at all. You had no choice. He was the one who started the violence. If it wasn’t for you, he probably would’ve messed me up pretty good.”

Rogan sighed. “Yeah, but I escalated.”

He was aware of his own weaknesses, and while he would be as calm as a lamb most of the time and take things in stride—work disagreements out in a reasonable manner—if someone crossed his personal line in the sand, he had the capability of snapping like a twig. He’d taken it too far with Mitch.

“You couldn’t help it.”

Rogan adored how Tate had already taken to defending and looking up to him. But they had to keep it real.

“Yeah. I could’ve. I could’ve pulled him away and held him down until he’d gotten hold of himself. But I didn’t. If I’m being honest with you, I wanted to beat the shit outta him.” Rogan pressed his lips together, not super proud of himself. “I saw red and my brain shorted out.”

“I understand that.” Tate gave a one-shouldered shrug. “That happens to me all the time, but mine’s from stress.”

Rogan drew his eyebrows together. “Hmm. I want to say I have an answer for how to work on that, but I’m afraid I don’t.”

“That’s okay. We’re still at the beginning, right?”

Tate’s features lightened, and Rogan felt as if he’d just won an internal contest with himself.

“We are.” Rogan smiled. “I have the sense you’ll be doing more of the guiding in the beginning.” He pointed the spatula at Tate. “But no teasing. You’re too tempting of a boy.”

Rogan winked then went back to preparing their meal. Tate pulled up one of the kitchen stools and climbed on top. He rested his elbows on the counter and propped up his chin in his hands, watching Rogan as he went through the motions of slicing the fruit. Tate reached out and snatched a strawberry then popped it in his mouth.

Rogan grinned, relieved at how playful Tate had become in the past couple days.

“No more. I want you to have a few bites of omelet first, understand?”

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