Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Roman
I’m hot, wet and shivering when I wake up. Garrett’s flannel shirt sticks to my skin and the sheets are damp, tangled over my legs.
It’s not the good kind of heat, not the result of rolling around in bed with the sexiest man I’ve ever met.
“Ugh, fuck’s sake,” I groan, stretching my limbs and rolling onto the empty side of the bed. I bury my face in the pillow, breathing in the delicious scent of my sexy writer.
Not mine.
But still.
Climbing out of bed, I tighten Garrett’s shirt around my torso, trying to ignore the scratch in my throat and the goosebumps that break out over my body when the air hits my naked legs. Nothing a cup of camomile tea won’t fix.
I find Garrett in the kitchen, two golden omelets on plates next to the stove, where he is frying tomatoes.
He’s singing along to a Christmas song, his hips swaying to the music.
I lean against the door frame and watch him, a smile spreading on my face despite the grogginess in my head.
When he spins, flourishing the spatula in the air, he spots me and a wide grin settles on his face.
He is such a morning person. It would be sickening if he wasn’t so damn sexy while also being unbearably adorable.
“Morning,” he says. “English Breakfast tea freshly brewed.” He points to the kitchen island where he’s made tea in a teapot. Oh my stars, he is perfect. Tea always tastes better coming from a pot.
“Thank you,” I reply, my voice straining. I cough to clear it, then pour the warm liquid into a cup. I pull out a stool and slide into it.
“You okay?” he asks, placing a full plate of food in front of me.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Throat’s a little scratchy and it’s seriously cold in here.”
Frown lines appear on his forehead before he crosses the room to rest a hand over the heater.
“Heating is on. And the fire is going in the lounge. Are you sure you’re okay?”
He comes closer and in a move I don’t expect, Garrett places the back of his hand over my forehead.
“You’re very warm.”
“I’m fine Daddy,” I joke. His cheeks darken and his nostrils flare.
Oh…okay…that’s…something.
Garrett pulls out the stool next to me and digs into his breakfast. We don’t talk about last night, or about how I slept all night on top of him. It’s as though in the light of day, it never happened.
“Shall we head into the village after this?” he asks, waving his fork at his plate.
My stomach twists. I guess this is it. Last night was fun, but he’s ready to get rid of me. Figures. Nothing I’m not used to.
“Yeah, okay.”
Garrett bumps his shoulder against mine.
“We need milk. I’ve never gone through so much of the stuff so quickly.”
“I like milky tea.”
He chuckles. “So I’ve noticed.”
We’re silent through the rest of breakfast. My body aches and I’m floating between being too hot and too cold.
I change into clean clothes, missing the softness of his shirt as I pull on one of my cardigans.
I eye the bed, wanting so badly to climb back in.
But I promised I’d leave, and it’s clear when he knocks on the door, asking if I’m ready, that he’s keen to get this over with.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Garrett asks once we’re outside. His brows furrow as he assesses me.
Swallowing around the sandpaper in my throat, I nod, pulling my beanie lower on my head.
The ground is mushy beneath our feet, the air thick with the scent of damp soil.
My head is too heavy on my neck, and the glare of the sun through the clouds hurts my eyes, but I ignore it all and aim for casual when I say, “I’ll get a cab to come collect my stuff once I’ve found another place.”
“Oh.” Garrett halts his steps and turns to face me. “Sure. That’s…” he rubs the back of his neck. “Sure, okay.” My shoulders slump in disappointment when I admit to myself I wish he’d asked me to stay.
We trudge down the narrow pathway that leads through the woods. The map at the cottage showed we follow this route past the river bend, over the cobbled bridge, and down the hill to the village.
I drag my feet another half mile. My head pounding with every beat of my heart. Sweat coats my skin under my cardi, yet I’m sure there’s an inferno burning in my blood. We still have at least two miles to go, and I’ve reached a point where I don’t think I’ll make it.
I look around the woodland surrounding me. The sun is breaking through the tree line, but there are still dark, ominous patches where the brush is thicker. I don’t love the idea of being alone out here without him.
“Gare Bear.” Garrett pauses and swivels towards me again. “Can we take a moment, please?” I lean against the trunk of a tall tree, my breath stuttering in and out of my tight lungs.
“Of course.” He comes closer. “You sure you’re okay? Your cheeks are flushed.”
I grumble. I hate being ill. When I’m ill, I’m super needy and very clingy and it always reminds me just how alone I am. The worst time to be alone is when you really need someone to hold you.
“I’m fine. I just walked a mile in the cold. Of course I’m flushed,” I bite out, knowing I sound like a brat.
Garrett pulls me into him, wrapping me in his arms and his spicy-sweet wood and apple scent.
“If I was your Daddy,” he says, his lips pressed to the top of my head. “You’d be punished for that.”
I laugh, but my laugh morphs into a broken cough. Garrett holds me tighter and I melt into his hold. The pressure of his grip on me going a long way to soothing my aching parts.
“You’re trembling, sweet thing.” He touches the back of my neck. “You’re feverish. Fuck. We shouldn’t have left the cottage.”
I don’t have the energy to argue with him or to remind him we were going on this hellish walk because he wanted me to leave. Instead, I wrap my arms around his middle and look up at him through bleary eyes.
“Give me a moment and I’ll be fine to carry on into the village."
Garrett shakes his head.
“No. We need to get you back to the cottage and into bed. Everything else can wait.”
I nod against his chest, slipping a hand into his. He turns on his heel and heads in the direction we came from. My feet move listlessly over the muddy ground, my limbs heavy and sore. It’s slow going and with each step the little energy I have seeps out of me until I can’t possibly go on.
“Just leave me here for the wolves,” I groan, releasing Garrett’s hand and plonking myself down on the wet, muddy path. My lungs ache as I suck in cold air.
Garrett grins. “You’re a tad dramatic when you’re ill.” He reaches out his hand, palm up.
I shake my head. “Can’t. I fear this is my end.” The clouds pick that moment to break – thick drizzle pelting down on us. “Go, save yourself.”
He full on belly laughs. “Stand up Short Stack, I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”
That gets my attention. I muster a slither of energy and press up to my feet. My hands are covered in dirt, and I wipe them on my coat.
Garrett lifts me into a bridal hold.
“Like a sack of potatoes,” I remark with a sigh, my head flopping against his broad chest.
“The things you say,” he says with a chuckle.
“You should hear the things I think. Dirty, naughty things.” I try to sound seductive, but I only end up coughing and groaning as my body aches.
There’s a rumbling in his chest. “Keep those thoughts to yourself for now, sweet thing. I don’t need a boner while I’m navigating the walk home.”
Garrett strips me out of my wet clothing, then pats me dry with a fluffy white towel. I sit on the bed naked, my teeth clanking together as a violent shiver ripples through me. He digs in my unpacked bag, pulling out a pair of my fleece leggings. Next, he picks up an oversized hoodie.
I shake my head. That won’t do.
“Yours,” I mutter, tipping my head towards the flannel shirt I flung on the floor earlier.
He smiles, scoops it up and guides my arms in before buttoning it all the way up.
He helps me into my leggings, his hand coming so close to my dick, I feel the heat of it against the flaccid flesh.
If my body wasn’t in the throes of…whatever this awful feeling is, I know I’d be sporting a semi right now.
But how can I feel aroused when it hurts just to breathe?
I climb beneath the blanket, every part of me aching. From my throat to my head, to every inch of skin on my body. Even my teeth hurt.
Garrett hands me two paracetamol, which I swallow with water and a wince as they go down. “You sleep, and I’ll make something for lunch.” He makes to leave and I whimper, reaching a hand towards him.
“Gare,” I call out. He pauses at the entry to the room, one hand coming to rest on the door frame while the other fiddles with the hem of his chunky knit cardigan.
“Short stack?”
I swallow, thickly.
“Can you hold me?”
God, the whine in my voice should be embarrassing, but my body feels like it’s breaking at the seams and right now I couldn’t give a shit how I sound.
Garrett steps closer, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he sits next to me. He cards a hand through my sweaty, rain damp hair and I scoot over, making room for him. Lying down, he slides an arm beneath my shoulder, pulling me closer, both our heads on the same pillow.
“Thank you,” I rasp.
“Anytime.”
My eyes flutter closed, and Garrett’s lips brush my forehead. I wrap an arm around his middle and try to sleep. But sleep won’t come. It’s right there, but I’m still trembling. Hot and cold. Shivering and sweating.
Fuck, being ill sucks.
“Closer,” I mumble, pulling on Garrett’s cardigan.
“Sweet thing, any closer, and I’ll be on top of you.”
Hmmm, that sounds wonderful.
“Yes, that,” I say. “Lie on top of me.”
He laughs under his breath.
“I’ll squash you.”
I rub my cheek against his coarse beard.
“Don’t care,” I mumble. “Closer, Gare Bear. Closer, please.”
Garrett lets out a breath. It sounds very much like the one Liam makes when he thinks I’m being ridiculous. And maybe I am being ridiculous. But I need this. Need him.
He pulls me impossibly tighter, then flings a leg over my lower half, before manoeuvring himself so that one side large of his frame is blanketing me.
His weight is crushing.
It’s perfect.