Page 18 of Small Town Daddy

With a final surge of desire, I gave in to the pleasure coursing through me. A low cry escaped my lips as my body convulsed, waves of ecstasy washing over me like a tidal wave. As the waves subsided, I sank deeper into the warm water, my heart pounding in my chest.

Sighing, I dunked under the water, trying to bring my heart-rate under control. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. In a stranger’s bathtub! Hopefully, he wouldn’t be a stranger for much longer.

***

As I stepped out of the bath, I wrapped myself in the plush robe Marcus had left for me. The soft fabric embraced my skin, making me feel cozy and protected. I couldn't remember the last time someone had taken such care to ensure my comfort.

I padded to the room Marcus had prepared for me, hearing the reassuring sound of him cooking downstairs. Whatever he was making smelled amazing.

In the room, my eyes fell on my open bag, and I caught sight of a familiar face peeking out—Mr. Whiskers, my trusted stuffed bunny. A surge of affection washed over me, followed by a twinge of embarrassment.

Marcus hadn’t seemed freaked out by him, but maybe, secretly, he thought I was a loser. I picked up Mr. Whiskers, holding him close to my chest. His worn fur and stitched smilewere a reminder of simpler times, of the innocence and security I longed to recapture.

"Maybe I should leave you here," I whispered, running my fingers over his floppy ears. But the thought of facing the night alone, without his comforting presence, made my heart ache.

Glancing at the door, I made a decision. Marcus had shown me nothing but kindness and understanding so far. If anyone could accept this part of me, it would be him. With a deep breath, I tucked Mr. Whiskers under my arm and stepped out of the guest room and down the stairs.

Marcus looked up, his blue eyes softening as they met mine. "Hey, there. Feeling better after your bath?"

I nodded, hugging Mr. Whiskers a little tighter. "Much better, thank you. I . . . I hope you don't mind . . ." I trailed off, gesturing to the stuffed bunny.

A gentle smile crossed his face, and he set down the dish towel he'd been holding. "Not at all. Everyone needs a little comfort sometimes. I hope you'll both be joining me for dinner?"

I couldn't help but giggle, feeling a warmth bloom in my chest. "We wouldn't miss it for the world."

As Marcus turned back to the stove, stirring a pot of what smelled like homemade soup, I settled into a chair at the kitchen table. Mr. Whiskers rested on my lap, a silent reminder of the child within me—the part of myself I'd kept hidden for so long.

But here, in the comfort of Marcus's home, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I'd found someone who could embrace all of me—the woman I was, and the little girl I longed to be.

As we ate, our conversation flowed like the river outside, meandering from one topic to the next. I found myself opening up to him in ways I hadn't with anyone else, my fears and insecurities spilling out like the creamy mushroom sauce onto my plate.

Marcus listened intently, his eyes never straying from mine, his strong hands cradling his own bowl. "You're strong, you know that, right?" he said softly, his words like a balm to my soul. "You've been through so much, and yet you're still here, fighting."

"I . . . I've never really thought of it that way," I admitted, my eyes shining with unshed tears.

He reached across the table, his fingertips grazing mine. "You should. You're a fighter.”

“I’ve been so scared. First Mom, now Dad. It’s too much.”

“You know, bravery isn’t about not feeling scared. It’s about feeling the fear and keeping going."

His words, coupled with the heat of his touch, sent shivers down my spine. In that moment, I knew there was more between us than just a shared meal. Slowly, tentatively, I laced my fingers through his, our gazes locked.

The tension between us was palpable, the air charged with a current I'd never felt before. I leaned in , my breath catching in anticipation. His gaze flicked down to my lips, and I knew he was thinking the same thing.

In one swift movement, Marcus pulled his hand away, his chair scraping the floor. "I . . . I think we should . . . um . . . finish dinner," he stammered, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

“Yeah, uh, that sounds good.”

We were careful not to touch each other again. I never quite recovered though. I felt on edge the whole time.

As the evening wore on, a comfortable silence settled between us. The crackling of the fire and the ticking of the antique clock filled the room with a soothing rhythm. I stifled a yawn, my eyelids growing heavy.

Marcus glanced over, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Sounds like someone's ready for bed," he teased gently.

I felt my cheeks flush, but I couldn't deny the weariness seeping into my bones. "It's been a long day," I admitted with a sheepish grin.

He hesitated for a moment, as if considering something. Then, he spoke again, his voice soft. "Would you like me to read you a bedtime story? I have a collection of classics."

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