Chapter 3

I sit on the sofa, tapping my fingertips together as I wait for Miles to return with a blanket and pillow. The TV is on, but the news has ended. I'm not interested in the police procedural drama that's on now, but I don't want to change the channel or turn the TV off. It isn't my house.

The lounge is in a state of disarray. Half the wallpaper has been stripped, and there's no carpet. The sofa and the TV on the floor are the only furniture in the room, and neither is in an ideal place. Not that it matters. I'll only be sleeping here for one night.

I'm amazed at how easy it was for Miles to suggest I stay here. But maybe I shouldn't be. He's giving off major Daddy vibes, and he's gorgeous. If I'd met him in a pub, club, or kink club, I'd have been very interested in going home with him.

I wasn't kidding when I told him his eyes were stunning. They fade from a dark blue around the outer edge to a vivid ice blue around his pupils. His dark brown hair has a natural wave and is the perfect length for running my fingers through while still being short. He has a short but messy beard that doesn't extend down his neck, with some lighter strands shot through it. Add the fact that he's taller than me with muscles to die for, and I am well and truly in lust with the man. Which probably isn't entirely appropriate, considering he's letting me stay here out of the goodness of his heart. Why did the universe drop me in the lap of the world's most perfect man at the most inopportune time? I hum. I'd like to be on his lap.

"Sorry it's a mess in here."

I snap my head round. I'd been so lost in thought I hadn't been aware of him returning to the room.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

I smile. "You didn't. I was daydreaming."

He puts a quilt and pillow on the spare sofa cushion. "I'll leave you to it." He walks toward the door, clicks his fingers, and turns. "You'll want to know where the bathroom is."

"That would be handy."

"Upstairs, first door on the left."

"Got it." Is he going to tell me which room his bedroom is?

"Goodnight."

"It's not that late."

He checks his watch. "No, I suppose it's not."

"Tell me more about this place. Why you bought it. What your hopes and dreams are for it. It will help me come up with some marketing ideas for you."

"You don't have to do that—Harris." He leaves a deliberate pause before saying my name.

"I want to. Besides, it has to be more interesting than promoting a cleaning company."

He chuckles. "I suppose so."

I push the quilt and pillow aside and pat the space between them and me. After a moment's hesitation, he joins me. His thigh brushes against mine, sending tiny pulses of electricity zipping between us.

"Why did you buy this place?" Do I sound breathy?

Miles clasps his hands between his splayed knees. "I was restless after leaving the army. I flitted from job to job for a while, but nothing really grabbed me. I saw this place, had savings, and thought, why not?"

"You bought a business on a whim?"

"Pretty much." He rubs his neck. "It was probably a huge mistake."

"Don't say that," I whisper.

He glances at me. "So far, it's been nothing but a money pit."

"That's because it's not open for business yet."

"I'm not sure it ever will be."

I frown. "Why?"

"I'm not business-minded. If I were, I wouldn't have bought one on a whim." He winks at me.

My knees turn to jelly. "Impulsive decisions can lead to wonderful things."

"Really?"

"Yes." The room is getting smaller, or we're leaning toward each other. "Would—would you tell me about your vision for this place?"

"I don't know. I figured I'd run team-building courses for businesses. Maybe schools could bring kids here for day trips. That sort of thing."

"Is there accommodation?"

"In theory, there's hostel-style accommodation out back, but the building's so dilapidated it probably wants knocking down and rebuilding. That's not something I can afford, so I'd be targeting schools and businesses within easy travelling distance." He sighs. "As I said, buying this place was a mistake."

"It doesn't have to be."

"No offense, but it's going to take more than wishful thinking and a bit of marketing to turn this into anything profitable."

I sweep my arm to gesture to as much of the property as possible. "You haven't given up on this place."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're doing it up. Will you show me outside in the morning? Uh, while I'm waiting for a tow. I don't want to outstay my welcome."

"I'd love to show you around."

Wow, it's got hot in here. "Great. Thank you. In the meantime, I'll put my thinking cap on and develop some ideas to get people fired up about coming here."

"Thank you." His lips remain parted for a second as though another word is on the tip of his tongue.

He looks into my eyes, and I'm helpless to do anything other than return his stare and smile.

"Do you need anything before bed?" he asks.

You?

"Food?"

"No, I'm good."

"I prioritised fixing the shower, so help yourself."

"Good to know. Thanks."

"Sleep well." He stands.

"Miles."

He turns to face me.

"Thanks for helping me out. My day was really sucking until I met you." Was that a bad choice of words?

He nods and takes a step toward the door.

"Miles."

His lips quiver in amusement as he turns again, one eyebrow quirked.

What do I even want to say to him? Hey, Miles, you're fucking gorgeous. Are you a Daddy? Yeah, right. I can't say that. The only right place to say that is in a kink club or maybe on a dating or hook-up app. Not while sitting on the sofa of the kindest, sexiest stranger I've ever met.

"Yes?" he asks after we've stared at each other for several seconds.

It has only been seconds since I said his name, hasn't it? My cheeks prickle with heat. I need to say something. Thank you isn't an option. I've already said that too many times.

"Do you always rescue bedraggled strangers who end up on your doorstep?"

He folds his arms, which makes his biceps and triceps bigger.

Dear god, help me.

"You're the first stranger who's needed help, and you're far from bedraggled."

How am I supposed to take that comment?

"Is there anything else?" he asks.

Come over here and kiss me. "No."

"Then I'll see you in the morning. Night, Harris." He waits half a beat and then strides toward the door.

Fuck it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. "Night, Daddy."

He stops. His back muscles flex beneath his shirt. He turns slowly.

"You are a Daddy, aren't you?" It's possible he has no clue what I'm talking about and thinks I mean he's a dad, but somehow I doubt that.

His nostrils flare as he parts his lips.

"You're giving off Daddy vibes. It's sexy. You're sexy." I pinch my bottom lip between my teeth. Things are either going to get awkward or interesting. I'm hoping for the latter, but the former would be just my luck.

He moves closer, one slow step at a time. I tremble under the scrutiny of his intense stare. My pulse races. My breathing gets a little ragged and shallow. Come over here and kiss me, Miles. Wrap me in those big, strong arms. Hold me against your solid chest.

It takes all my self-control not to leap off the sofa and dart into his—hopefully welcoming—arms.

"You like Daddies?" His voice is a soft, deep purr. Fuck, it's sexy.

"Yes. I'm a boy." Which should be obvious.

He hums. "Yes, you are."

Had he already figured out I was a boy?

"Maybe my luck is improving. But I guess if you don't believe in luck, you probably don't believe in serendipity or fate either. Do you?"

He makes an affirmative noise as he sits beside me, closer than before.

"There must be a reason I broke down outside your home."

"Coincidence?" He leans so close his coffee-scented breath warms my face.

"Isn't that another word for fate?"

"No."

"If you say so."

"I do, boy."

Oh. Fuck. Never has one word been spoken in such a sexy way. His voice turns me upside down and inside out. I tremble. My skin tingles. My pulse flutters. I want this man so badly. I want his lips on mine and his hand tangling through my hair. I want his strong arms wrapped around me. We might not have met in a bar or club or via a hook-up app, but the result is the same. I'm in his home, and fuck, do I want him. I'd rather he was ripping my clothes off than behaving like a gentleman.

I lick my lips. "It doesn't matter whether we call it luck, fate, or coincidence."

"It doesn't?"

"No."

"What does matter?"

"That I'm here. With you. That we want each other." Shit. "You do want me, don't you, Daddy?"

He leans in closer still. "Yes, boy."

Thank fuck for that. "Kiss me, Daddy."