Page 2 of My Boyfriend's Protective Daddy

“I own the building. There’s an apartment on the second floor,” I tell her.

“Oh.”

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go upstairs. We’ll get you dry and warm and maybe you can tell me what the hell is going on.”

She nods. After dropping the tub in the kitchen, figuring I’ll wash the glasses tomorrow, I shut off the lights and lead the girl upstairs. When I pass by her, I get a whiff of the citrus in her hair and the light floral scent of her perfume and close my eyes, savoring her aroma. It’s heady. She’s about a foot shorter than my six-three frame and tiny. Pixie-like. Cassie is small and delicate and the innocence I see in her eyes stirs something deep and primal within me.

The urge to tear her wet clothes off and have my way with her is powerful and unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I don’t know how to explain it. Hell, I don’t even fucking understand it myself. But this girl is triggering something inside of me that’s raw. Something that’s consuming, and it’s all I can do to keep my hands to myself. We get to the top of the stairs, and I open the door, letting her go in ahead of me.

Gritting my teeth and trying to stuff down those primal urges, I close and lock the door before I walk into my bedroom and grab some sweatpants, a t-shirt, socks, and a towel, then step back out into the living room. She’s standing in the middle of the room, her arms still wrapped around her midsection. Though she seems less frightened, she’s still wary. Her eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route. It’s as if she knows she jumped out of the fire but doesn’t know if she’s landed in the frying pan just yet.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice trembling. “I should probably go.”

“You’re going to catch your death out there. It’s pouring.” I set the bundle of clothes on top of the towel down on the coffee table in front of her. “The shower is through that door. Go take a hot shower. These clothes might not fit very well, but they’ll do until I can get your clothes dry.”

She gnaws on her bottom lip, her emerald eyes searching my face. I can see her taking my measure. See her trying to decide whether she can trust me or not. I must pass whatever test she has in her mind because she gives me a nod as she picks up the clothes and towel, doing her best to keep from dripping all over them.

“Thank you,” she says.

“I’ll put on a pot of coffee while you clean yourself up. And leave your clothes outside the bathroom door. I’ll pop them in the dryer.”

“I appreciate your help. You don’t have to do this.”

“I’m not going to turn my back on somebody who needs help.”

Her full, heart-shaped lips curl upward in a gentle smile that takes my breath away as she turns and walks into my bedroom. I’ve got two showers in the apartment, but the one in my room gets hotter and has better water pressure. I figure that one will be better for her. As I put a pot of coffee on, I hear the bathroom door open and then close, so I walk into the bedroom, scoop up the bundle of wet clothing, and carry it into the small laundry room set off in the kitchen.

Opening up the washing machine, I toss her jeans and socks in, then her long-sleeved red t-shirt and black hoodie, socks, and bra. I find myself holding her panties. They’re simple cotton and pink with red balloons on them. They’re adorable and only add to that air of innocence the girl has about her that sets me on fire. My head is swimming as I stare at the pair of panties in my hand, and before I even think about it, I find myself raising them to my nose and inhaling the sweet, light scent of her musk. A low groan passes my lips as my cock thickens in my jeans.

I hear the shower turn off, so I drop the panties into the washer, throw in some detergent and fabric softener, and then start the load as I fight off my raging hard-on. A few minutes go by, and when she still hasn’t come out to the living room, I poke my head into the bedroom. Cassie is so small and delicate that when dressed in my clothes, she looks like a child playing dress up. But she’s stretched out on my bed, fast asleep, the ordeal of her evening having taken its toll.

I stand and watch her sleep for a few moments, watching the rise and fall of her chest and the sound of her deep, even breaths. Her rich, red hair is splayed out like a fan under her head. She looks so peaceful. Her face is smooth and untroubled—the complete opposite of the harried and bedraggled girl who stumbled into the bar.

A small smile on my lips, I close the door and let her sleep.

2

CASSIE

My eyes flutter open and I sit bolt upright in the bed, not sure where I am for a moment. It takes a second, but I finally orient myself, recalling everything from last night that led me to where I am right now. The memory makes my stomach churn, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Sunlight streams in through the window to my right, the storm that I ran through last night had finally subsided. My head spinning, I glance down at myself and see that I’m wearing clothes that seem like they were made for a giant.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stand up. The air is saturated with the aroma of coffee and bacon frying. Quietly opening the door, I pad out of the bedroom and walk through the apartment, stepping into the kitchen to find Cash quietly singing along as he cooks. My heart flutters inside of me as I watch him quietly for a moment. He moves fluidly and gracefully around the kitchen for such a large man. Cash turns around, and when he sees me watching him, he stops singing, looking slightly embarrassed, and smiles warmly.

“Good morning,” he says.

His voice is a deep rumble that sends goosebumps crawling across my skin and fills my belly with a delicious warmth.

“Good morning,” I reply. “I’m so sorry I stole your bed last night. I didn’t mean to?—”

“It’s all right. You looked comfortable, so I didn’t want to bother you,” he replies. “I was fine on the couch.”

“This is your house. You shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.”

He waves me off. “Believe me, I’ve slept on worse. The couch is just fine,” he says. “Speaking of the couch, I put your clothes on the couch.”

I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me last night when I gave him my clothes, but the realization that he saw my panties suddenly dawns on me. It makes my stomach lurch, and my face grows warm with embarrassment.

“Thank you so much,” I stammer.

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