Chapter 20-Callie
You give me fever.
The soreness in my throat extends to the end of every limb but the first thing I’m aware of when my eyelids crack open in the early light of dawn is the heat. I don’t have an electric blanket, do I? Must be the fever. Yet, it’s not unpleasant.
My hand brushes something hairy. An arm? A very toned, masculine kind of arm. I must be having a vivid dream because I would swear I can smell that sandalwood scent that’s all Ezra. There’s something hard poking me in the ass, too.
He was here last night, I think.He drove us home from Wyatt’s game.He mentioned making pancakes.A doctor came over.Or did I dream that?Doctors don’t make house calls anymore, do they?
The fatigue sweeps over me again and I drift back off.
∞∞∞
The next time I wake, I’m aware my fever has broken. There’s a husky but soft voice in my ear telling me so. He’s also telling me things about school and cartoons and a fresh fruit basket from the Sorvinos and muffins from the Culvers and quarantining for the weekend. What does it mean? I don’t know.
A hand holds my head and I sip something warm. Chicken broth. Then, I obediently take two pills and sip apple juice. I see Wyatt, telling me to get better and leaving me a drawing - a dump truck full of flowers. Ezra’s hand is on his shoulder. They mention making sandwiches. I murmur my thanks for the picture and sleep some more.
∞∞∞
Hours later, I’m awakened by the doorbell. Blearily, I stare at the time on my phone. It’s past five. My sheets faintly smell like his cologne. They also smell like I’ve not bathed today after sweating a lot. Gross.
Where is Wyatt? Did I take him to school and forget doing it? Is Mama picking him up today? That must be it because I don’t feel any sense of panic.
I stumble toward my bedroom door and hear hushed voices down the hall. “Your laptop and your father helped gather your clothes and personal items, Mr. Sokolov. He’s concerned.”
“Thank you, Celeste. I’ll text him. Anything else?”
“No, except… This is quite sweet of you, sir.”
“Didn’t think I had that in me, did you?”
“I didn’t mean it like that, sir,” the woman gasps, clearly mortified until Ezra starts chuckling and sends her on her way.
The door closes and I hurry over to the window in time to see a white woman with blonde hair in a crisp gray suit leaving the building below and getting into the back of a town car. I recognize her from the press conference, his assistant. How long has Ezra been here?
My heart starts thundering as I hear footsteps nearing. I look down at my rumpled pajamas and cringe when I glance in the mirror. I look like roadkill. Correction, I look like road kill with the flu. I have the insane urge to dive under the covers and pretend I’m still asleep as my door cracks open. “Callie? Did the doorbell wake you?”
“Yes, come in.” Swallowing as best I can around my dry, sore throat, I stand up straighter.
Ezra walks in, smiling so softly when his eyes land on me it nearly knocks the breath from me. Then, I notice he’s carrying a laundry basket and my jaw drops. He asks how I’m feeling as he starts placing freshly folded pajamas on my dresser.
“Wyatt’s coloring another picture for you. We got his clothes washed and I thought you might like fresh pajamas.”
That tears my attention away from the sexiest sight I have ever beheld, Ezra Sokolov putting away my laundry. “Yes, I’d like that. You said you got his clothes washed. He’s been afraid of the washing machine since-”
“Since the little flood. Yeah, he told me. I convinced him that sitting around in stinky clothes will not be appreciated by his tablemates at preschool.” I gulp, glancing down at my pajamas again. “I also pointed out he was wearing clean socks and underwear when he scored his goal the other night. It would be bad luck to deviate from success.”
My lips curl up into a grin. “Life with kids means working the currency sometimes. Seems like you already know that.”
“Well, I had a troublesome younger brother to help raise so…” He shrugs and trails off, the silence stretching between us. I wish he didn’t feel bad for mentioning his brother but I don’t want to think of Chase either. “I’m going to make some soup in a bit.”
He’s making soup. He’s doing my laundry and taking care of my son. This must be a fever dream. I need to ride that dick in it next.
“Why aren’t you at work?”
“Because I’m taking care of you,” he says like that’s the most obvious answer in the world. He walks closer, brows drawn together in concern. “Callie, are you alright? You look faint.”
I almost think I could. “I think I want a shower, that’s all.” I glance over to my bed. “Have you been sleeping in here?”
“Just beside you.” Then, he blushes. Ezra Sokolov blushes. “You asked because you were feverish and said it felt better if I was holding you and… nothing happened, I swear.”
Slowly, I nod as the fragments I thought were dreams reform into memories. He’s been taking care of me and my son since last night. He’s rescheduled his day and, considering I don’t have a string of worried texts or demands on my phone, he’s handled mine, too.
“Callie?” Ezra says, still sounding worried.
He needn’t worry. “What did the person at the door want?”
“My assistant brought me some fresh clothes. I figured I’d stay here this weekend or until… that is, if you want me to stay. If you want me to go…”
“No, I want you to stay,” I whisper and he smiles again.
Tonight, I want him to sleep beside me again… after I ride that dick.
∞∞∞
Showered, in clean pajamas and with fresh sheets on my bed, I’d emerged from my bedroom feeling nearly human once more to find Ezra and Wyatt playing Go Fish. Wyatt had rushed into my arms, touchingly relieved to see his mother on her feet again. Even when I’ve been sick other times since I became a mother, I’ve not allowed myself to lay in bed. I wouldn’t have allowed myself that now either if not for Ezra.
“Mamas need to be taken care of, too, sometimes, Bump. Remember that,”Ezra had murmured when I’d apologized to my son for not being… well, not being on duty all day as usual.
I’d been stunned to find that not only had Ezra done laundry but he’d tidied up as well. My place is usually neat but a rambunctious little boy doesn’t allow it to stay that way all the time. I would never have guessed that Wyatt had been home all day looking around.
There is only one sign that Ezra is an actual human and not an android or angel sent from above. He tried to make soup.
“It’s, um… full of flavor.” Namely, salt. Lots of salt.
“Don’t humor me, woman. It’s terrible.”
“The bread is good, Ezra,” Wyatt offers, politely.
“Because the Culvers sent it from that bakery along with the muffin basket.”
“You made the soup. We’ll gladly eat it.”
“Do I have to eat it, Mama? I don’t have the flu.”
Ezra cackles over that and makes a box of mac and cheese for Wyatt. All three of us enjoy the fresh fruit Grace Sorvino had sent over along with the muffins from Clancy’s.
Once Wyatt is tucked in and fast asleep, I find Ezra in the kitchen, cleaning up. I swear, this man. “Thank you.”
He turns, flashing a quick but devastating grin. “Don’t thank me for terrible soup.”
There’s a dish towel hanging over one of those broad shoulders and his sleeves are rolled up from washing dishes. He’s a handsome devil in a tailored suit and plenty sexy wearing a hockey jersey or cable-knit sweater but this domesticated god standing in my apartment? Lord, it’s a good look on him, one that I could get used to.
“I’m thanking you for the terrible soup and for taking care of Wyatt. For calling a doctor for me. For doing laundry. For holding me last night during my aches and chills. I’m thanking you for every single kind and selfless thing you’ve done and that goes beyond the past twenty-four hours, Ezra Sokolov, so you will stand there and accept my thanks.”
He’s blushing again. I’ve only seen his face flushed with exertion or anger in the past. I never knew Ezra could blush so readily. “It was…”
“Don’t say it’s nothing. It’s not nothing to me.”
“Well, you’re welcome then,” he says gruffly at last, turning back toward the sink.
It strikes me then. He’s holding back because I have asked for time and I haven’t spoken of the other night. I’m finished holding back. I walk up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my cheek on his warm, solid back.
A damp hand covers mine, squeezes. “How are you feeling, darling?”
“I no longer feel like shit. I am not completely well.” But, the instant I touch him, my body burns with fever of a different variety. I want him. I want him so much and there’s only one cure. “I feel like a woman who loves it when you call me darling or hummingbird.”
He pulls my hands away and pushes me back just enough to escape my embrace. He methodically wipes his hands on the dish towel and sets it aside. The rejection feels like a deep chasm in my heart tearing open… until he gracefully turns us around, pushing me up against the kitchen counter with him behind me.
“I love hearing that,” he rasps, his hot breath fanning across my bare neck.
He steps close, too close for mere civility. God, he’s hard for me. I feel my panties growing damper than the dishwater. His hands brush my shoulders and slide down my arms. I shiver with need.
“Is that the fever coming back?” I shake my head. “Did you want to help me finish the dishes?”
I shake my head again, twisting my neck and tilting my head back. “What I want is a kiss… but I don’t want to make you sick.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me as his warm, rough hands slide back up my arms again and then around to my front so he can cup my breasts. I can barely swallow, can’t even breathe, but my legs part slightly as he presses me against the counter, his hot erection digging against my pajama bottoms. His fingers start teasing my nipples through the soft fabric of my pajama top, tugging on the tight buds that beg for his attention.
“Darling, any kisses you want, I’ll give them. The flu, I’ll take it. I want you more than a drowning man wants oxygen. Just promise to consider how long it’s been for me if I come quickly the first time.”
“What does that-”
But, he cuts off my question when he leans down and kisses me; making my pussy throb with desire, filling my heart with joy and blowing through the last of my caution. His kiss turns that simmering fire in my blood to a monstrous blaze. I want all of him, too.
Whimpering, I grab the edge of the counter as his mouth moves from my lips to my throat. He continues teasing my nipples as his thick cock grinds against my ass. One hand slips down into my pajama bottoms, cupping my sex, flicking a finger through my drenched slit.
He chuckles darkly, nipping at my ear. “Soaked with nectar like my good little hummingbird should be. You’re going to give me every drop from this sweet pussy tonight.”
I can barely stay upright I”m so ready to combust, but we can’t continue here with Wyatt nearby. “Ezra. Bedroom. Now,” I pant.
With a growl, he lifts me up, forcing me to stifle a squeal when he carries me over his shoulder down the hall, a cave man with his prize. I’ve never been more eager to be the prize in my entire life.