Chapter 22
Maeve
I wake up so groggy that I wonder if I’m having a dream…and in the dream, I’m waking up from a dream.
My vision’s blurry, and for a hot second, I have no idea where I am.
When I try to push myself up, stabbing pain bisects my brain from ear to ear. I drop back on the pillow with a groan.
My first migraine? Is this what they feel like?
No, thank you.
I didn’t have all that much wine. Just two glasses or so of the good stuff. No way this is from the bottle of Rothschild Bourdeaux we opened.
Maybe I need to put a temporary moratorium on alcohol. This is the second time this week I’ve crawled out of bed like a zombie.
The warm body beside me shifts. “How’re you feeling?”
Holy hell. Sexy Kellin. With his rugged morning voice. In bed with me.
Kellin.
In. My. Bed.
From a well deep within my soul, I summon the energy to speak. “Like someone with a giant nutcracker mistook my head for a walnut.” I lick my lips. I have the worst cottonmouth. “How did you know I was… Did we…?”
At his brief hesitation, I almost die of shame. “Way to make a guy feel special, Maeve.” He sets a strong hand on my back, tapping his fingers between my shoulder blades. “You don’t…remember it?”
“No. I mean, yes, I… It’s coming back to me.”
I roll over. My body performs the maneuver just fine, but my bowling ball of a head lags on some sort of a delay, so the motion dizzies me. When I think I can manage without throwing up, I crack one eye open and peer up at him. “Sorry.”
He shifts his naked body closer, and I can feel him, halfway hard, on my thigh.
The memory of our night together surges back in a hot wave. His mouth on mine, his hands on my breasts, his cock pushing deep inside me…
Desire pulses between my legs. The sensation tentacles out to my knees, my nipples, my neck. Heat spreads up my face and down my chest.
If not for the headache from hell, I’d love nothing better than to climb on top of this gorgeous man and go for round two.
If only. I can’t even seem to open my other eye, let alone convince the rest of my body to do as instructed.
“Hey.” Kellin brushes his fingers through my hair. “You know I’m just messing with you.”
He cups my cheek, and I lean into his palm, hoping the warm pressure will help banish the nausea currently assaulting me.
“I meant, how are you feeling after what happened in the stairwell yesterday?” His lips caress my forehead in the softest of kisses. “Are you okay?”
Oh, that.
I grimace. “I don’t think I was feeling anything until you just reminded me.” I nuzzle into his neck, mostly to protect my eyes from the offensive daylight peeking in through my curtains. I inhale Kellin’s intoxicating scent, wishing it could sustain me. “I’m okay. But I think I need water.”
I sit up and regret that choice immediately. Nausea whirls in my stomach, threatening to climb up my throat.
How humiliating. Truly the least sexy thing that’s ever happened to me. Particularly while naked.
But I’m not a quitter.
Carefully climbing out of bed, I search for the nearest bundle of clothes. Anything will do at this point.
The room sways. I stumble to my knees, my hand gripping the mattress.
Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me?
Kellin kneels down beside me, his hand on my back. “Let me help you. What do you need?”
I struggle to pinpoint the right words. “Water. A shower. Maybe a brain transplant.”
Kellin’s face pinches tight. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault I feel like crap.”
When his expression doesn’t relax, my heart flutters. That’s so sweet. He must be worried about me. “Okay, I got you. Let’s take it slow.”
He hooks an arm around me, and we rise together, with him supporting my weight. Otherwise, I’m not going anywhere. Opening my eyes is awful and closing them is worse, so I relax my lids into slits and allow Kellin to guide me.
I meet his gaze briefly as he sets me on top of the toilet lid. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but you should keep your distance. I must have the flu. Or maybe food poisoning.” Did I even have dinner last night? I tilt my head back against the cool bathroom wall. That feels nice.
He squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Do you feel steady enough for me to run and grab you some water?”
I nod, then close my eyes. I should not move any part of me.
A cabinet door squeaks, then water rushes from the kitchen faucet.
When he returns with a glass of cool water, I fight the urge to chug the whole thing down. I force myself to sip slowly, allowing the liquid to settle in my unhappy stomach. Once I finish, Kellin rescues the cup from my wobbly hand.
He rears back and studies me, his arms crossed over his tattooed chest. “You should call your assistant and tell her you’re sick.”
I start to shake my head, stopping with a wince when the entire room oscillates. “Can’t. I’m way too busy.”
“I’m not so sure you have a choice, darlin’.”
I scoff, though with my thickened tongue, the noise sounds more like a hiss. “What am I supposed to say? ‘I can’t work today because I’m too hungover to walk. But don’t worry about me, Len, because I have a beautiful naked manservant at my beck and call.’”
Wait, did he call me darlin’ again?
A smile briefly lifts Kellin’s lips before they dip back into that almost-frown.
My chest tightens. “Oh, no, do you feel sick too?”
“No, I’m okay.”
His expression still strikes me as…wrong. As if he’s ill but not with whatever’s afflicting me. Tight lines pinch the skin around his eyes, and his lips thin into a severe line.
Maybe he’s worried. Or maybe he finds my attempts at sickbed humor annoying.
Kellin leaves and returns with a damp washcloth that he holds against my forehead.
“Best nursemaid ever.”
Did I say that out loud? Who knows.
My body sways unpleasantly. He’s right about informing Lenora. No way can I function like this.
I lean into him, resting my cheek on his shoulder. “Can you… I think I may need help showering.”
Without a word, Kellin helps me up, accompanying me into the walk-in shower.
He starts the water while I sit on the bench with my head sagging against the tile wall.
I huff a laugh. “When you pictured us showering together, I bet this isn’t what you had in mind.”
Kellin rotates the showerhead so the spray trickles over me. “Not exactly. But I’m not complaining.”
The warm, wonderful water cascades down my breasts, stomach, and legs.
Kellin kneels in front of me, gently running a soapy cloth over my skin.
His eyes, intent and focused, stay on his work. More flutters kick up behind my ribs.
I hope this is a sneak peek of heaven.
A girl can dream anyway.
“If you can bend forward a little, I can wash and rinse your hair too.”
I’m too out of it to bother with self-consciousness.
Despite the pain still prickling behind my eyelids, Kellin’s gentle fingers are a balm against my scalp. His nails scrape my skin just so, and all the tension and worry drain away with the shampoo.
Who knew the hands that can dislocate a man’s shoulder in seconds can also so effectively give a scalp massage?
After Kellin thoroughly soaps and rinses, he quickly cleans himself—I wish I felt good enough to enjoy the view—and then switches off the water.
He sits me back down on the toilet lid, carefully drying every inch of my skin with my favorite fluffy green towel.
Then he leaves before returning with some fresh clothes. How he managed to choose my coziest set of pajamas is beyond me, but he did.
I reach my hand out in a weak attempt to dress myself.
He gently bats the appendage away with my shirt. “Maeve. Let me.”
My heart leaps at his impossibly soft voice.
Has anyone ever…cared for me like this? In my entire life? Surely my mother did, right? When I was small?
Yet, not a single memory comes to mind. I’m in foreign territory here.
The simple act of Kellin bathing me, drying my hair, guiding my arms through sleeves…
The intimacy steals my breath. If I had any energy left, I might cry.
Instead, I push a smile to my tired lips as Kellin tugs the neck of my shirt down over my face. “Well, that was exhausting, and I didn’t even do anything.”
He laughs softly, plucking the brush from my sink and gently dragging the bristles through my hair. “I didn’t do all of it. You did raise each foot a couple of inches so I could get your lounge pants on.”
And doing that much already drained me of strength. I can’t possibly work in this condition.
I drop my head into my hands. “Grab my phone?”
After two or three attempts to text Lenora—I just keep erasing the messages and starting over—Kellin pries the device from my hand.
“What can I do to help you today?” His fingers grab mine and squeeze. “Lenora can be you, and I’ll be Lenora. Assign me any tasks that you both think I can handle. That way, you won’t fall behind.”
His face is smoother now than before the shower. The little frown lines have vanished for the most part, replaced by that sweet, charming smile he wore that first night.
His dark eyes soften with…worry?
I’m not even embarrassed by the tears burning my own eyes. “How are you even real? How was I so lucky that you came by, wanting to invest in me?”
I raise my hand to caress his cheek before letting it drop.
Kellin grunts and glances away.
Was that a thank you? Where’d this humility come from?
I never imagined Kellin would struggle with receiving a compliment.
Though I guess I’m the same way.
He ushers me back into bed. Places a glass of water by my side. Sets my phone next to that. The shower dulled my headache, but the dizziness remains, only minimally soothed once I’m horizontal again.
“I’m going to find you some chicken soup, ginger ale, and crackers. I’m sure the kitchen downstairs has what you need.” He brushes his fingers across my face, trails them down my neck. “Stay here. I’ll find Lenora and let her know what’s going on. We’ll take care of everything.”
I close my eyes as gratitude wells in my throat. “Thank you, Kellin. You’re my hero.”
“Just…feel better, Maeve.” He grazes my forehead with his lips again, then he’s gone.