Page 78 of Power Play Daddies
The whole night,I’ve been watching her. Hell, I think every guy in this room has been watching her.
Daisy fucking Love.
The dress she’s wearing—black, silky, clinging to her curves like it was painted on—should be illegal.
It’s got this low-cut neckline, sleeves hanging off her shoulders, and a slit so high up one leg it could ruin a man’s self-control for good.
Her hair’s up, a few loose strands framing her face, making her look effortless and expensive all at once. And those heels? Jesus.
I’m not the only one staring. Beau keeps messing with his cufflinks, a nervous tick I’m not even sure he realizes he has.
Mason’s gaze flicks to her every few minutes, and some guy at the bar has been eyeing her like she’s his next meal. It pisses me off more than it should.
She’s ours.
But then she moves—her face suddenly twisting like something’s wrong. And before I can process it, she’s hurrying out.
I don’t think. I just move.
She slips into the women’s bathroom, and I’m right behind her.
The door swings shut, and I hear it—her gagging, retching into the sink.
“Shit.” I step inside without hesitation, not giving a damn about boundaries.
She’s gripping the counter, knuckles white, her whole body tense as she dry heaves.
“Daisy,” I say low, moving toward her.
She glances at me through watery eyes, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “You—” She swallows. “You can’t be in here.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t give a fuck.” I step closer, rubbing slow, soothing circles on her back. “You’re fine, all right? Just breathe.”
She grips the counter harder, eyes squeezing shut. Her shoulders rise and fall with a shaky breath.
“How often has this been happening?” I ask.
“A couple of times,” she admits, voice hoarse. “Mostly in the morning.”
Morning sickness.
I already knew, but hearing her say it, watching her like this—it does something to me. Something tight and possessive and fucking permanent.
I don’t think. I just pull her in.
She stiffens for half a second before sinking into me, pressing her face against my chest. My arms wrap around her automatically, holding her tight.
“You wanna go home?” I murmur against her hair.
She shakes her head. “I can’t. I need to get something for the paper.”
I exhale through my nose, not liking that answer one bit. “Mason and Blaze will figure something out for you. Right now, you need ginger ale and some rest.”
She looks up at me, eyes still watery but more focused now. Then she nods.
I keep my arm around her as we walk out—only to run straight into Ace.
Fuck.
