Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Ace

I jerked awake, my muscles locking up at the feel of Stan’s hand wrapped around the back of my neck, pinning me to the mattress. I tried pushing up, but he was four times my size and much stronger than me.

“Get off of me!” I barked, not giving a fuck if I woke everyone up in this house. But unlike me, I knew even if someone did wake up, they wouldn’t come help me. They wanted to fly under the radar. Remain unnoticed. I got it. I did. But fuck, some help would be nice. Especially since I knew I’d risk my own life and safety to help them if they were in this predicament.

“You livin’ under my roof,” he panted against my ear as he ripped my blanket off of me, “you givin’ me what I fuckin’ want.”

“You’re not getting shit from me,” I growled, willing myself to not fall prey to the panic surging through my veins. I knew what was about to happen. It’d happened twice already. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight. I never gave in. Never would accept defeat.

He smashed my face into the pillow, and I fought back harder, unable to breathe. Was he trying to fucking kill me?

“Stop fightin’ me, you fuckin’ prick,” he snarled, shoving my face harder into the pillow as he worked my sweats down over my ass. Tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. My lungs were screaming for oxygen. I couldn’t fucking breathe ? —

I jerked awake, sweat making the clothes I was wearing stick uncomfortably to my skin. I was breathing too hard, and my heart was racing too fast. I flung the blankets off of me and stumbled out of bed, heading to the attached bath I’d discovered after I ate earlier.

I was splashing cold water on my face when Gunner appeared in the doorway. He didn’t look like he’d been asleep yet, but looking out the window revealed it was definitely dark outside. Didn’t mean it was late though. With it being winter, it could still be six in the evening.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and soft. And fuck, it did something to my insides. Butterflies erupted in my belly, but at the same time, my anxiety settled. Like just his mere presence brought me safety. Made me feel like nothing could touch me.

Gunner was a massive, tall man. Thick muscles bulged from his inked arms, and his barrel chest stretched his long-sleeve shirt tight across his chest. Despite him being a backwoods mountain man, his blonde beard was neatly trimmed and groomed, and his blonde hair was clean, well-kept, and fit his face perfectly.

“I’m fine,” I managed.

He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and crossed those big arms over his chest. Normally, that kind of stance and blocking my exit would make me freak out and lash out, but I just… I felt safe . How did he do that? Why was he so fucking different? He could even touch me unexpectedly, and I didn’t freak out. I didn’t panic. I didn’t want to scrub my skin raw to remove the feeling of him touching me. Instead, I just wanted more . Like I needed to touch him to breathe. How was that possible when I was so… touch-phobic?

“You don’t look fine, Ace baby,” he said, that stern Daddy note leaking into his voice again. I prayed he didn’t notice my dick reacting. He was a beautiful man, and he had everything I wanted wrapped up in a big, tattooed package. I never thought a relationship would ever be in the cards for me due to my fear of being touched, but maybe I was wrong.

Maybe there was hope for me.

Especially if he kept calling me Ace baby and sweet boy . I was such a sucker for both names, especially in that deep, almost growly voice of his.

“I’m fine,” I said again, not wanting to talk about any of it.

Gunner hummed. I knew he didn’t believe me. But he pushed off the door frame anyway and turned, leaving me behind. Something tightened in my chest, and I felt untethered. Was he walking away? Why was I so upset about it?

“Come downstairs,” Gunner commanded. “I’ll put on a movie and you can eat some more soup. Some color is returning to your face.”

With that, he descended the stairs. I quietly stepped out of his bathroom and followed him down the stairs into the living area. He pointed to the couch as he made his way to the kitchen. I scowled, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. “I’m not a dog.”

“Ace, don’t be a brat,” he warned me, his back to me as he faced the stove. “Sit down.”

I huffed. “I’m not a fucking brat.” And because I wanted to be goddamn difficult, I crossed my arms over my chest and began making my way back toward the loft. Didn’t matter that I wanted to be around him. I felt all exposed and raw and everything was too… different with him.

I squeaked when he suddenly latched his long, thick fingers around my arm and snatched me to a halt. I spun around to face him, my eyes feeling too big for my face as my heart slammed against my chest bone. He leaned down, his hand coming up to cup the side of my neck. His thumb stroked lightly over my Adam’s apple, and I swallowed, my dick rallying at his possessive, grounding touch.

“I don’t mind you being a brat,” he told me calmly. “I love a bratty boy.” My breath hitched in my throat. “But acting out because you’re confused and a little lost isn’t okay. I’m trying to give you structure. If you just do what I tell you, Ace baby, you’ll calm down, and you’ll feel a little better. I promise.”

I scoffed. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

He arched a brow at me. “I can spank you instead.”

Jesus fuck .

I liked the idea of that way too much. But I wasn’t sure my body could take it. My head was still hurting, and I feared a spanking would just make me throw up… again. That was still embarrassing. I couldn’t believe I’d vomited in front of him while he was holding the fucking trash can .

“No spanking,” I muttered, my defensive stance dropping.

He drew me to him and wrapped his arms around me. And fuck… I didn’t realize how much I just needed to be held . I wrapped my own arms around him, sinking into him and burying my face against his broad chest. He hummed and gripped the back of my neck, gently massaging the tense muscles there.

I had no idea how long we stood there for, but it was everything . Every muscle in my body seemed to go limp, and my eyelids fluttered closed. My fingers absently stroked over his back, just wanting to feel him and soak this in.

I didn’t give a fuck that I’d barely been around him mere hours—awake for a hell of a lot less of it. Didn’t give a fuck that it was probably way too soon to decide something like this. But I wanted Gunner. I wanted him as mine. My Papa. The man who loved me and took care of me and protected me from the rest of the world, even though I could definitely take care of myself now.

I just wanted him.

Eventually, he led me to the couch, where he had Transformers playing on the screen. Silently, he wrapped a blanket around me, then disappeared into the kitchen. I got comfortable, my eyes locked on the screen. I’d heard of the movie, but I’d only ever seen the first one. This one had different characters from the first, and so far, it seemed a lot better than the first movie.

“Here.”

I looked up at Gunner. He was taking a seat beside me on the couch, holding a bowl of soup in his hands. I reached for it, but he shook his head, so I dropped my hands back to my lap. When he lifted the spoon to my lips, my cheeks heated, but I opened my mouth, letting him feed me.

It was nice. Having him take care of me like this was so settling. So… freeing, oddly enough. I didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to remain on guard. Gunner just took care of everything.

Once the soup was finished and I’d eaten the remaining crackers from the pack I’d had earlier, Gunner pulled me close, allowing me to curl around him as his warmth seeped into me, bleeding through the blanket. I absently traced the tattoos on the backs of his hands, unable to not touch him when he was this close. And together, we watched the movie.

My mind shut off and let Gunner take over, and it was… it was the most relaxed I’d been since… well, since I could fucking remember. I wasn’t even this relaxed at home around my brothers and their significant others.

I glanced up at him from beneath my lashes, watching as the light from the TV flashed across his almost too-handsome features.

Gunner, what the fuck is so different about you ?

“You need more rest,” Gunner said softly once the movie ended.

I huffed. “All I’ve been doing is sleeping,” I muttered, burrowing more into his big, burly chest.

He chuckled, his fingers sifting through my hair. I almost purred. “Yes, but God only knows how long you were laying on the ground. You got rained on. The temps dropped drastically last night. And you have a head injury. Sleep is a must, sweet boy.”

I looked up at him. “Do I have to go to bed by myself?” I boldly asked. I wasn’t ready to be apart from him. And strangely enough, I cared if he slept or not, too. I didn’t want him down here, laying on this couch. It wasn’t fair. And he was too big for it anyway.

He arched a perfect, blonde brow at me. “Do you want me to lay with you, Ace baby?”

Immediately, I clammed up. It was hard enough for me to ask him to come to bed with me. He didn’t have to put me even more on the spot. Shoving his arms from around me, I jerked to my feet, the blanket falling from my shoulders. “Forget I asked,” I muttered.

His arm banded around my waist before I could take one step away from him, and he yanked me down to sit on his lap. I snapped my eyes up to meet his. Even sitting down, he was so much bigger than me. He cupped my cheek, keeping our gazes locked. His eyes were a shade lighter than mine—almost icy. But there was so much warmth there. Warmth for me.

“What?” I grumbled, wishing I had the willpower to rip my eyes away.

“You’ve had a lot happen in the past twenty-four hours, Ace,” he said calmly, always so fucking patient with me. My brothers had never been this patient, and it made my chest all tight and fuzzy and it made me want to fucking cry. And I wasn’t a crier. “You’re overwhelmed, and that’s understandable.” He looked at my hands, which had begun to play with his shirt absentmindedly. It was like now that I could touch him—touch someone—without wanting to shred my skin, I couldn’t stop . “You even said touching me, being able to touch anyone, was something new for you, right?” I nodded. He smiled softly at me. “Then, trust me when I say you need rest. You need time for your mind to settle again.”

“I don’t like being put on the spot,” I muttered. “You put me on the spot.”

“I was clarifying what you wanted, giving you the chance to change your mind in case you’d said what you did without meaning to.” My shoulders rose to my ears, and finally, I dropped my gaze, staring at my hands, which had stilled. I felt stupid now. “Look at me.” I slowly lifted my gaze. “I want nothing more than to cuddle you and hold you while you sleep, Ace.”

Everything inside of me relaxed and turned to goo at his words. “Then will you lay with me, Papa?” I asked, testing the term on my tongue. It felt… right .

Gunner’s eyes brightened, and something possessive anchored itself in his gaze. He tightened his hold on me, drawing me closer. I shivered, sinking into him. “I’ll lay with you, baby. All night until you wake up, if you want me to.”

I nodded. “I do,” I said softly. I leaned into him, not wanting to move. He bound his arms around me as I rested my head on his shoulder. My cheeks were warm as I tentatively asked, testing the name out again, “Will you carry me to bed, Papa?”

His warm, low chuckle was music to my ears as he scooted to the edge of the couch. I wound my arms and legs around him. “Yes, sweet boy. I’ll carry you to bed.”

Tucking my face into the curve of his neck, I smiled, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. My brothers were going to have a fit over how quickly I’d become so wrapped up in Gunner, but I didn’t give a fuck. They could all kiss my ass.

Gunner was mine —my Papa—and I was never letting him go.