Chapter 56
Nathan
I watch her sleep, thick eyelashes sweeping over her cheekbones. Her breathing is harsh, her cheeks are flushed, and when I push the hair back from her forehead, I feel her burning up. Damn. I should have come sooner.
Zoey called my office and told me Starling wasn’t feeling well.
I wanted to rush to her right away, but I stopped myself.
I promised her I’d give her time. I also promised her I’d always be there for her—in sickness and in health.
That’s my vow to her. It’s that vow that finally pushed me to leave the office, by which time, it was past two a.m..
I drove to her place, pulled out the key I have to her apartment, and let myself in.
When I reached her bed, I found her shivering with fever.
I took off my shoes, crawled into bed, and held her.
She melted into me, and her trembling almost instantly subsided.
She’s still running a fever, but it seems to be slightly weaker in intensity than earlier.
I slide out of bed, fill a glass with water, wet a washcloth, and walk back.
I slide my arm under her neck, and holding up her head, place the glass to her lips. "Drink, baby."
Her eyelids flicker, then she obediently takes a few sips of water.
"When did you take the Tylenol?"
"Two a.m., I saw the time before I fell back to sleep."
I lay her back against the pillow, then place the washcloth on her forehead.
"That feels good," she sighs.
I place my hand on the moist cloth, and she places her much smaller hand on mine. "I’m so glad you’re here."
I bend and brush my lips over hers. "Me too, darling."
A tear squeezes out from the corner of my eye.
I make no attempt to brush it off. This is how much I’ve missed being with my wife.
How much I’ve missed holding her. Cuddling her in the mornings.
Waking up to her sweet curves against mine.
How much I’ve missed the beat of her heart against mine.
How much I’ve missed the warmth of her body against mine.
And yes, I’ve missed being inside her, too, missed the clench of her pussy around my cock as she orgasms, those breathy little moans and whines she makes when she’s close.
The curve of her lips, those big eyes of hers when she’s surprised.
I’ve missed everything. I’ve missed sharing my life with my significant other.
Missed her even more, now that I know how it can be for us to be together.
Missed her much more than those years I spent jerking off to the feel of her mouth against mine when she kissed me on her eighteenth birthday.
I’m glad I’m here, for it’s a privilege to show her how much I care.
"Maybe I should call a doctor." I begin to move away, but she grabs my wrist.
"No doctor."
"But you’re not well, sweetheart."
She looks between my eyes. "You’re here now. I’ll be fine."
I cup her cheek. "Give me your illness, baby. I can take it."
She scoffs, "Like I want you to get sick."
"I can bear it. But seeing you unwell hurts me so much more. I’d do anything to make you feel better. Anything."
Her lips curve. "I love you." She closes her eyes.
When the cloth begins to lose its coolness, I rise, wet it under the tap in the bathroom, then return and place it on her forehead.
I find a basin in her kitchen, fill it with water and place it on her nightstand.
I continue to wet the washcloth and place it on her forehead throughout the night.
As the silvery light of dawn filters in through the window, her fever breaks.
I wipe the sweat from her forehead, then gently run the cloth over her neck, before I toss it back into the basin.
The tension drains from my muscles, and I yawn.
I’ve been in enough fights to realize I’m facing an adrenaline dip.
This, nursing her through this fever, is, by far, one of the more serious battles I’ve fought.
And no way am I losing to this illness. But she’s better now.
I yawn again, then slip into the bed and gather her close.
My breathing mirrors hers and I drift off to sleep.
When I wake up it’s to find her staring at me.
"How are you feeling now?" I tuck strands of her hair behind her ear.
"Like I’ve run a marathon." She coughs. "But otherwise, much better."
"You need to stay in bed today."
"Will you stay with me?"
I nod, then place the back of my hand on her forehead. "No fever, that’s good."
"Did you get any sleep?" She touches my cheek. "You look tired."
"Now that you’re feeling better, I’m good."
She smiles. "It’s nice to be with you."
"Only nice?"
She laughs. "It’s almost decadent that you’re taking care of me, to be honest."
I frown. "It’s my duty, and my responsibility, and the most important thing in the world."
She flushes. "You say the sweetest things."
"And you’re the sweetest thing in my life."
"Sweeter than the desserts I create?"
"Sweeter than even that penis-shaped cake you have in your shop."
"Jealous of a snack, hmm?"
"Hardly. We both know my cock is much bigger and can get much harder than any of those dildo shaped sweet dishes you create."
"Is that right?" She slides her hand between us and squeezes my morning wood.
I groan. "No baby. Not now."
"Why not?" She frowns.
"You’re not well."
"I’m feeling much better, thanks to you." She continues to massage my dick from crown to base, and all the blood drains to my groin.
"Fuck," I growl.
"That’s what I want from you."
I place my hand on hers and, for a second, hold it there.
I’d give anything to have her continue to jerk me off, but at this rate, I’ll come in my pants in seconds, and that’s not fair to her.
Besides, no way, am I letting her do all the work.
"And I want to make love to you, but you need to get better first." I manage to pry her hand away from my throbbing shaft and bring it to my mouth. I kiss her fingertips. "I love you."
"I love you, too," she murmurs.
I pause. I heard her earlier, but I was sure she said it because she wasn’t fully awake.
But here she is, looking at me, and smiling that angelic smile of hers, and telling me the three words I’ve wanted to hear from her for so long.
I trace my thumb around the wedding ring I gave her. "Say that again."
"I love you." She tips up her head and presses her lips to mine. "Only you."