Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“I know. I’m going to force him to let me take care of him, though.”
“Good luck with that, sweetheart. Maybe you should both move in with me. Until he’s feeling better.”
She frowned. It was a kind offer. But she wanted to be in her own home, surrounded by her own things. And she was certain that Spike would feel the same way.
“Thanks. But I have this. I can take care of him.”
“Not doubting that, Millie,” he reassured her. “But who is going to take care of you?”
Surprised filled her at his words. “I can take care of myself. I did it before I met Spike.”
“Not to insult you, sweetheart, but you constantly found yourself in trouble before you met him.”
“I did not!” She thought that over. “Well, okay, I did a bit. But I have got this. And I’d rather be home. Oh shoot!”
“What is it?” he asked.
“I just remembered that my friends are staying the week with us. I hope they’re all right. I wasn’t there to show them their bedrooms or cook them dinner. And everything is still outside from the Easter egg hunt.”
“Everything is being taken care of,” he reassured her. “Effie and Grady went back to your place yesterday after they left here. Duke, Sunny, and some of the others did too. They tidied everything up and made sure your friends settled in all right.”
Relief filled her. “Thank you. All of you. I’m so grateful.”
“That’s what family is for, sweetheart.”
10
His girl was running herself ragged.
And Spike fucking hated that.
She needed to rest. To relax. He wasn’t even sure that she was sleeping. He tried to stay awake each night to ensure that she lay down beside him and slept, but he kept fucking falling asleep before she did.
They’d been home for three nights now and enough was enough. She was taking care of everyone else and wasn’t letting anyone look after her.
Sometimes, he’d wake up and find her sitting next to the bed, just staring at him.
Yeah, the doctor had said that he had to take things easy. But that didn’t mean he was a fucking invalid. Today, he was getting up, showering and going downstairs to eat.
Climbing from the bed, he headed into the attached bathroom. After using the toilet and brushing his teeth, he felt a lot better. But his energy was fading fast. Fuck.
Turning on the shower, he stripped out of the boxers he was wearing and got in. As he started to wash himself the bathroom door opened and Millie ran in.
“Spike!” she cried out, rushing to the shower. Pulling open the door, she stared at him.
She still had dark marks under her eyes, marring her too-pale skin.
She was wearing a pair of pants and a long sweatshirt.
Which he also didn’t like. His girl wore dresses. Not pants and sweaters.
Her dark hair was pinned up, flyaway strands falling down.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, her hands on her hips.
He frowned. He didn’t mind her calling him Spike or Quillon. But he preferred to be called Daddy.
And it might make him a hypocrite, but he also didn’t appreciate her scolding tone.
“I’m Daddy.”
She bit her lip, giving him a nervous look. As well she should.
“You’re injured,” she stated. “You should be in bed.”
“I needed a shower.”
“Why didn’t you call for me?” she fretted, rubbing her hands together. “I could have given you another sponge bath.”
That sponge bath would have been enjoyable had she taken care of his hard dick. But she’d refused to, worried that she’d hurt him.
He didn’t know how that would even be possible.
Spike ran his hand over his dick, washing it, squeezing it. Her breath caught as she stared down at him.
“Why don’t you come in here and bathe me?” he murmured.
“I . . . I really think you should get out,” she said, her gaze still on his hand as he stroked himself. “You could get dizzy and fall.”
“I’m not dizzy.” Well, maybe a little light-headed. But he wasn’t telling her that. “Get in here.”
She shook her head, stepping back and grabbing a towel. “You come out and I’ll dry you off. I made scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast.”
Yeah. He didn’t like that either. His girl wasn’t supposed to touch the stove.
All right, so he knew she wasn’t Little all the time. But he cooked her meals. That was just the way their dynamic worked.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t burn anything this time. Reverend Pat helped. He kept an eye on the eggs.”
“I’m cooking from now on.”
“You have to rest, Spike.”
He shot her a look as he finished rinsing off and stepped out. “What do you call me?”
“Daddy.” She gulped heavily. “Sorry.”
He grunted as she started to dry him. Fuck. What was wrong with him that he hated accepting help? Even from his girl.
“I know that it’s hard, but there’s nothing wrong with letting me do things for you,” she told him as she crouched down to dry his feet and lower legs.