Protector Daddy (MC Daddies 3)

Her body went cold then flushed hot. She glanced down at Spike who was now crouched in front of her, her hands in his.

“I need the bathroom,” she managed to get out.

“This way.” Grady jumped from his chair and pointed to a door. She raced towards it, barely making it to the toilet before she started heaving.

She didn’t take the time to close the door behind her. But she was surprised as someone came in behind her. A hand wrapped around her hair, holding it back from her face as she heaved up the daiquiri as well as the chocolate croissant she’d had for dinner.

The heaving stopped but she remained kneeling there, shivering in reaction. She knew exactly who was behind her and she didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to face him.

“Here, this might help,” Grady said from the doorway.

She cringed. Well, this was humiliating. And try as she might, she couldn’t lock down the embarrassment coursing through her body. Shoot.

“Can you turn around, doll?” the man behind her asked. It was the gentlest she’d ever heard him speak. She wasn’t sure where the nickname came from.

But she couldn’t resist the coaxing in his voice, turning and sitting on her bottom with her back leaning against the cool wall. She didn’t look up, didn’t want to see anyone.

The toilet flushed. There was the sound of a cupboard opening and then a pair of jean clad legs appeared in front of her. A big hand reached out and gently grasped hold of her chin, raising her face.

Millie closed her eyes. A cool cloth was run over her face, wiping off the sweat. It was soothing. And sweet. And not something she’d expected from him at all.

The cloth disappeared and a cold glass was pressed to her lips.

“Open your eyes. Drink this.”

She really didn’t want to. Opening her eyes meant looking at him. And that meant acknowledging that this wasn’t some nightmare.

“Come on, doll,” he coaxed.

Shit. She opened her eyes then her mouth, gulping down the glass of water he held. She was helpless against this side of Spike. This gentleness. Caring. When was the last time someone cared for her?

“That’s a good girl,” he told her.

Had she banged her head? Was this some alternate universe?

With a shaking hand, she reached for the glass.

“Uh-uh,” he said in a firm voice with a look that just did things to her. Why, she had no idea. She was always the one who took care of others.

And aren’t you tired?

Didn’t you spend countless nights wishing for some help? To not have to shoulder every responsibility?

Still, it was odd to let someone else take over.

Spike removed the glass when she’d drunk it all down. He grabbed another washcloth from the cupboard under the sink, wet it, then gently pulled her away from the wall. Twisting her hair up, he laid the washcloth on the back of her neck.

Oh. That was nice.

She must have made some sound because he drew back and gave her a knowing look. “Feels good, huh?”

“Y-yes. Thank you.”

He just gave her a sharp nod. “Want to tell me what that was about?”

“Not really.”

His gaze narrowed. “What was that about.”