Page 22 of Wild Daddy

"Thank you. For taking care of me."

"Thank you for letting me." His arm tightens around me. "Now sleep, little girl. Tomorrow we really start your education."

As I drift off in his arms, warm and safe and more satisfied than I've ever been despite not getting everything I wanted, I find myself looking forward to whatever lessons he has planned.

I'm finally starting to understand that maybe the most important things can't be learned from books.

Six

Marley

I wake up with my face pressed against a wall of muscle and the horrifying realization that I'm drooling on my wilderness survival instructor.

Not my finest moment.

Cade is already awake, one arm pinning me against his chest like I'm a teddy bear he's claimed in his sleep. The other hand is doing something that feels suspiciously like petting my hair.

"Morning, little girl."

His voice is rough with sleep and way too satisfied for someone who's spent the night fully clothed in a sleeping bag with a nineteen-year-old academic disaster.

"Did I drool on you?" I mumble into his chest.

"Little bit."

"Oh God." I try to pull away, but his arm tightens around me. "I'm sorry. I don't usually... I mean, I've never shared a bed with anyone before, so I don't know my sleep habits and—"

"Marley."

"What?"

"You're rambling."

"I ramble when I'm embarrassed."

"I noticed." His hand stills in my hair. "You also ramble when you're nervous, when you're thinking too hard, and when you're trying to avoid dealing with how good this feels."

He isn't wrong. Waking up wrapped around him feels ridiculously good in a way that probably violates several sections of my thesis methodology.

"We should get up," I say, making no effort to actually move.

"Probably." He doesn't let go either. "But first, ground rules for today."

"More rules?"

"Different rules. Today we're going deeper into the wilderness. Real survival training." His voice has gone more serious. "Which means when I tell you to do something, you do it immediately. No questions, no analysis, no debate."

I tilt my head back to look at him. "That seems a little extreme."

"This isn't a fucking dorm room, Marley. One wrong step out there, and you could break an ankle, fall off a cliff, or walk into a bear. When I say jump, you don’t even say ‘how high’, you just leap and trust me to be there to catch you."

"But surely there's room for discussion if I don't understand—"

"No." His hand cups my chin, forcing me to maintain eye contact. "No discussion. No questions. No thinking your way through everything. You trust me to keep you alive, and you do exactly what I tell you to do."

The authority in his voice sends that familiar ache through my body that means I'm in trouble again. "What if I disagree with your methods?"

"Then you'll learn what happens when little girls don't listen to their Daddy."

---