His Rules (Love, Daddy 3)

I turn them palms up, and he dusts off the dirt and grit.

“I’m okay, really.”

“Hands look okay, but…” He clicks his tongue. “…that knee. That knee needs a Band-Aid.”

I look down to see the pinpoints of blood on the surface of the scraped skin, then have to look away. I watch as Rueger’s hands work open the top of the bandage box and then realize what I’m looking at.

“They’re sloth Band-Aids?”

“Of course. I bought them for you. Had to search the internet. Not every corner drugstore carries bandages with sloths on them.”

He’s got a bandage out and onto my wound in the next second, then tosses the box back into the car. His hand comes to hover over the exposed flesh of my upper thigh.

There is a moment where time seems to evaporate. Rueger’s hand brushes down the top of my thigh, smoothing over the fabric of my skirt, then it stops. His fingertips rest there, and in that second, nothing else exists except the low sound of a groan that releases from his throat.

Tunnel vision takes over. All I see are his fingers on my skin. There. In such an intimate place. Such a soft touch with firm digits. His spicy cologne swirls around me, making me dizzy. His breath is on my cheek, warmed by the sun and my arousal. He moves in so close I hear the air move through his nose.

Then I hear the word.

“Babygirl.” It’s lower than a whisper. I’m not even sure it’s more than the wind dancing through the trees. “You’re coming with me and not to the zoo.”

Chapter 3

Rueger

The entire ride to my place takes all of ten minutes, but it may as well be years. My plan is moving faster than I intended, but I no longer care. She didn’t question when I said we weren’t going to the zoo anymore, which only fueled the fire that is quickly consuming me.

We sit in silence for the first half of the journey to my house here in Portland, but I’ve got her hand clutched in mine and it feels more than perfect. It feels right.

Why I waited so long I don’t know because I’ve missed out on the joy of touching her. I wind the Wagoneer through the streets, trying not to hit any of the many bike riders that use the streets here as much as the autos.

“You okay?” I turn to see her bat her eyelashes and take a breath. So beautiful. So fresh and free.

So fucking mine.

“Yes.”

“It’s a lot, I know. But I couldn’t pretend anymore. Then, goddamn, you show up wearing that fucking T-shirt today. The day I planned to tell you—”

I grit my teeth and swallow. I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t want to scare the shit out of her.

“It’s okay. Tell me what?” She squeezes my fingers, and just that simple gesture has my dick ready to spend in my pants.

I look over and see her eyes wide, her lips slightly open. Her brown irises seem full of glitter today. They sparkle and call to me just like those words scrawled in shimmering script across her chest.

Daddy’s Girl.

“The rules,” I manage, waiting for her to pull her hand away. But she doesn’t. My chest is barely containing the pounding of my heart. The need inside me is gripping around my throat, making each breath a struggle.

When I saw that T-shirt today, I knew it was a sign. No more waiting. No more holding back. Today, I believe in divine intervention because it was

a sign from on high.

“The rules? I know how you like rules, but I’m not sure I understand…”

“Open the glove box,” I say, and it takes her a moment, but her free hand moves to do as I order. Inside, there is a white envelope. It’s been there for months. Waiting.

But today is the day.