“A fucking jerk.” She looked ridiculously pleased at that.
“Don’t swear,” he scolded. Yes, he was a hypocrite. No, he had no right to tell her what to do. But right now, he didn’t care.
“Swear if I want to swear,” she said almost sulkily.
He raised an eyebrow. “Not while I’m in charge, you won’t.”
Maybe he had more of a Daddy Dom side than he’d realized. He shook his head. Or maybe it was her. She just seemed to bring out parts of him that he hadn’t known existed. The urge to be indulgent was tempered by the need to ensure she did as she was told.
She was fucking with his head. The sooner he made sure she was okay and left, the better.
“You said you’re not my daddy.”
“And I’m not. But right now, I am looking after you. And you’re going to be respectful and obedient, young lady.”
Christ. Where was this shit even coming from?
“Greg wanted kids. I can’t have them.”
He winced. Fuck. She was going to be pissed once she realized how much personal information she’d given him. She couldn’t have kids? Fuck. How old was she? Twenty-five at most, he was guessing.
“It’s one of reasons he left me.”
That fucking bastard.
“Then obviously you’re better off without him, huh? Come on, you need a shower.”
“There were other reasons. I’m too quiet and shy. I’m not corporate enough.”
“The fuck that mean?” he snapped.
She started to giggle. “I have no idea. Duke?”
He froze. Was she growing more aware? That was the first time she’d used his name. He braced himself for her to get mad at him. If she told him to get lost, would he? Could he?
“Yeah, babe?”
“I like ‘baby girl’ better,” she told him.
He waited for more. Nothing came. “That it?”
“Hmm, oh, and I don’t really feel that good.” She put her hand over her mouth and he quickly scooped her up, racing for the bathroom. Luckily, her place was an exact replica of his house.
Except her house looked like a home. It looked lived in. His house was a bachelor pad. Huge T.V., a pair of recliners in the living room. Only his bedroom had an actual bed although he had a few mattresses for when some of the guys crashed at his place.
He got her to the toilet just as she started vomiting. He crouched, holding her as she dry-heaved. Not much was coming up. When was the last time she’d eaten?
When the heaves stopped, he helped her lean back against the wall. He flushed the toilet and picked up her toothbrush, putting some toothpaste on it.
Her eyes were closed, her skin now pasty white.
“Baby girl, brush your teeth and I’ll get your shower going.” How the hell was he going to get her in the shower?
She opened her eyes. “Can’t. Tired. Bed.”
“Soon,” he promised her. “Wouldn’t you like to go to bed all clean? Brush your teeth, I’m going to get you some water.”
Something with electrolytes in it would be better. He turned the shower on. Then moved into the kitchen. Her cabinets were neat. Glasses all in a tidy row. Yep, nothing like his place. He opened the fridge, frowning when he saw how little food was in there. A fucking head of lettuce and some tomatoes? And what was this shit? He pulled out a tub of gloopy-looking stuff.