His Daddy Omega (Sweet Alps Mates Book 5) by Raiven Matthews
Author:Raiven Matthews [Matthews, Raiven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-09-21T16:00:00+00:00
Chapter twenty
Gabe
This might go down in the books as one of the worst weeks of my life.
I was an idiot.
I had sent my mate â my fated fucking mate â away.
My Daddy. I had sent my Daddy away.
Yeah, there was no denying it. I had already called him that. The word slipping out of my mouth like melted butter. And deep down I wanted him to be my Daddy, I knew it.
And I had sent him away.
So, I could think.
Grr, thinking was fucking overrated.
What the ever-loving fuck was wrong with me?
The entire week I had been plagued by nightmares, that left me waking up in a cold sweat. I could never remember them clearly. I would just jerk awake, covered in sweat, my heart pounding, and the most profound feeling of loss stealing my breath away.
I found no joy in shifting, or even trying to get into my little headspace each night. When I did try to play, color, or even watch my favorite movie with my binky and my stuffies, it just felt all wrong. Like something fundamental was missing.
Like your Daddy? My bear groused unhappily.
Worst of all, I was snapping at my crew, when they had done nothing wrong.
Truthfully, I should have been praising the fuck out of them. The week I had been off, and basically unavailable, Stu had kept everything running smoothly and on time. All my guys had kept things going, and I was grateful to them for it.
Which was why I was walking into Quinnâs bakery at seven on a Friday morning. I planned to suck up to my guys with coffee and baked goods. Quinn didnât make donuts, but he made scones and muffins that were to die for. Along with brownies and cookies that would be great on break. Iâd just get an assortment of stuff, and a couple of to-go carafes of coffee. Sort of a thanks for putting up with me being a complete dick this week and please donât quit.
And Asher had kept his word, damn him.
He had left me alone this entire week. Not even a text. Or a friendly wave when we would be heading out our front doors and down our driveways at the same time each morning.
And then there was the debacle of Wednesday morning. His day off.
The day I had made a fool of myself, and nearly driven off the road leaving our sub-division, when I had seen him jogging. Endless golden legs and his perfect round ass, barely covered by what had to be the smallest pair of running shorts ever created. With each thump of his sneakers, the barest hint of his ass cheek had peeked out, like the ripest, juiciest peach.
Heâd had earbuds in his ears, listening to who knew what, as Iâd slowly driven by. Telling myself not to look, just keep driving. But nope, my damn eyes didnât listen to anything my brain said. And Iâd turned my head to look.
No one should look that good covered in a fine sheen of sweat, high cheekbones flushed, golden hair tousled.
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