Page 27 of Surprise Baby for the Don

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “For everything.”

I give her a small smile, my hand lingering on her cheek for a moment longer before I drop it, reluctantly pulling away.

“Do you want me to send someone to your place to get your things? You don’t have to go back there if you don’t want to.”

She shakes her head, her expression resolute. “No, I need to do it myself,” she murmurs. “You’ve done so much for me, but this is something that I need to do for myself.”

I nod, respecting her decision, even though a part of me wants to insist on sending someone. But I know Ginny well enough by now. This is something she needs to do on her own.

“Well, my offer still stands,” I say, my voice gentle. “You can stay here as long as you need. Or as long as you want.”

A faint smile tugs at her lips, and she nods, her gaze softening. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I appreciate it. I think I’ll take you up on that.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then she glances down, a sheepish look crossing her face.

“I took all my clothes home to wash them last night,” she admits hesitantly. “I don’t have anything else to wear here.”

I can’t help but chuckle, the sound low and warm. “You know I have people who would do your laundry for you, right?”

Her cheeks flush, and she gives me a little shrug. “Yeah, but…” she trails off, trying to collect her thoughts. “It’s one of those things I just like doing myself. I’ve always done my own laundry; I don’t want to stop now just because I’m staying with you.”

It’s such a simple thing, so ordinary, and yet it endears her to me even more. She’s so independent, likely because she’s only ever been able to rely on herself. It makes me want to take care of her, to give her everything she deserves. I’ve never felt such an inherent need to take care of another person, and it’s somewhat terrifying.

I clear my throat, trying to shake off the strange, unfamiliar emotions swirling inside me. “Why don’t you go relax for now?” I offer. “I’ll draw you a bath. You look like you could use it. It’s a pretty nice tub.” I add.

Without waiting for her response, I turn and head to my master bathroom and start the bath, switching on the taps and adjusting the temperature until it’s just right. I add a bit of lavender bath oil, watching as the steam rises, filling the room with a calming, soothing scent. I’m not usually the type to fuss over details like this, but with Ginny, it feels important. Necessary.

When I return, she’s still sitting in the same spot on the bed, looking at me with a mixture of confusion and gratitude.

I gesture toward the bathroom. “Go on. I’ll bring you a robe and some towels.”

She hesitates for a moment, her gaze flicking between me and the bathroom, as if she’s still not sure what to make of all this. But finally, she nods and climbs off the bed, brushing past medisappearing into the bathroom. I follow a moment later, after finding a fluffy robe and fresh towels, setting them down on the counter.

I know I should leave, that I should give her privacy, but I find myself lingering, my eyes drawn to her as she stands there, her back to me, her shoulders tense. There’s a part of me that wants to stay, to watch her disrobe and sink into the water, to be there for her in every possible way. But I know it’s not the right time. She needs her space.

With a quiet sigh, I turn and close the door behind me, forcing myself to walk away.

I sit on the edge of the bed, scrolling through my phone, though I can’t seem to focus on anything. Finally, I manage to dial the number of the boutique I sent her to earlier in the week. I know they have her measurements, so I ask for more clothes, pajamas, and underwear to be sent to my house for her.

I’m just hanging up when the bathroom door finally opens. I glance up, my breath catching at the sight of her. She’s wearing my robe, her hair damp, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the bath. She looks stunning. There’s a softness to her, a fragility that makes me want to pull her into my arms and never let go.

“I’ve ordered you more clothes,” I say, my voice low. “But if you’re uncomfortable being around the staff in just”—I gesture to the bathrobe—“that, you can stay here. In my room.”

She gives me a small smile, nodding as she tightens the robe around herself. “Thanks.” She smiles. “I think I’ll do that.”

She approaches me slowly, coming to stand in front of me. Now she cradles my face in her hands and forces me to look up at her, a reflection of our earlier position.

“You have no idea what this means to me,” she murmurs, bringing her lips closer to mine until we’re just a breath away.

My arms move to her waist, stiff, unsure. I don’t want to do anything she doesn’t want, but I’m already semi-hard being this close to her and knowing that only a small bit of fabric stands between us. She makes the decision for me, climbing up onto my lap, straddling me, and pressing her lips forcefully against mine.

Her tongue eagerly slips into my mouth, powerful and hungry. There’s no hesitation in her movements, no insecurity as her hands tangle into my hair and her warm body presses against mine. Her hips grind against me, and it’s all I can do not to groan in pleasure. I’m putty in her hands, completely defenseless against whatever attack she wants to wage. If she asked me to give her everything I own right now, I probably would.

My hands slip under the hem of her robe, caressing her slightly damp skin, still so warm from her bath. I touch her everywhere, getting lost in the sensation of her soft skin under my palms, until she finally, mercifully, undoes the tie on her robe and lets it fall to the floor.

17

Ginny

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