Page 42 of Biker's Babygirl

It has to have hit him by now. Maybe he’s tired of constantly defending me… maybe he wishes I’d just go away after all.

I open my mouth to ask, but the words catch in my throat.

“I know I said I was going to give you an exam, and I definitely need to check on your arm and change the bandage.” His voice comes out professionally brisk, but he still hasn’t faced me.

Here it comes….My tummy tightens into knots.

Finally, he turns around to look at me. His expression is somber, and his eyes are filed with compassion. “Ginny… do you want to be my little girl?”

The question hits me in the chest like a shove, but it isn’t pain that blooms there—it’s more like wild, unexpected hope. “Wh…what?” I squeak.

“It’s just occurred to me that I call you that. Hell, I think of you as my Little girl if you want to know the truth.” He gives me an ironic smile. “But it just occurred to me I’ve never actually asked you whatyouwant. Come to think of it, I don’t know if you want to be anyone’s Little, much less mine.”

“Oh, Duke,” I breathe, the words torn from me before I can think of what I even want to say. “Any girl would be lucky to call herself yours.” I blush as soon as the words tumble out of my mouth, and not because I don’t mean them. It’s just not like to me to speak so poetically, and even though I meant every single syllable, it still makes me feel vulnerable and embarrassed.

He closes the distance between us but stops just short of reaching me. When he speaks, his voice is gruff, but I don’t miss the tenderness in his expression, or the hope in his eyes that mirrors the emotion fluttering in my chest. “But… what do you think about calling meyours?”

This time, I clamp my lips together before I can blurt out a “yes!” or even more embarrassingly, “yay!!” I wait, breathing slowly, and stare at the man in front of me. This strong, capable man of integrity. I honestly didn’t know they made them thisway, and the fact that he’d chooseme…it’s enough to make a girl get teary-eyed. Which I do.

“Hey.” His voice is full of tenderness as he closes the couple of feet between us and cups my cheek in his large, warm hand. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m going to take care of you, Ginny. I mean that. Listen, you don’t have to answer right now. Take your time and think about it.”

I swallow hard over the lump that has sprouted in my throat and give him a nod.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened today, sweetpea?”

The loving nickname makes a tear slide down my cheek, and before I can irritably brush it away, Duke moves his hand and gently swipes it off with the pad of thumb. I’m prepared to shake my head, to plead the fifth, whatever it takes to avoid relaying the events of today, and what they mean.

“Ginny… you can trust me. What do I need to do to prove it to you?”

His question and the way he asks—kind, compassionate, genuine—wrenches the words from me before I even realize I’ve changed my mind. “Shep is right.” I choke on the words, and the tears come pouring, hot and fast. I duck my head, and when he pulls me to him, I crush myself against his chest.

“Right about what, kitten?”

In between sobs, I tell him. I spill the whole story, my words coming faster and faster until I’m not sure he can even understand me. But he never interrupts or asks me to stop. Instead, the steadying presence of his hand is on my back, rubbing circles in an attempt to comfort me when I least deserve it.

“It’s my fault,” I sob, filled with regret, not only for ever allowing Lucas into my life, but because that choice might mean Duke won’t be a part of it.

“Shh. It’s okay,” he soothes.

“But it’s not okay!” I burst out, pushing away from his chest. “It’s not! I’ve ruined everything… I’ve…”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

He doesn’t see. He doesn’t get it.I give him a watery glare. “Shep was right about you, you just don’t see it clearly.”

“Young lady, do you want me to wash your mouth out with soap?”

His sudden shift into Daddy-stern has me sitting up straighter and feeling ashamed of my outburst. “No, sir. I’m sorry.”

“You better be,” he warns, pinning me with a firm stare. “I am really sorry for everything that happened today. I’m sorry you were scared, but that doesn’t give you any right to take your frustration out on me. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I near-whisper.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, louder. And just like that, he’s got my mind off Lucas, and I’ve stopped crying.

“Good girl,” he praises warmly.

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