Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
JETT
Reaching for my wife, I came up empty.
Something had pulled me out of the nightmare that had just begun. I wasn’t sure what time it was or what had woken me, but I immediately sought out Patience for comfort.
Only she wasn’t there.
My body jerked as the most god-awful sound hit my ears. I now realized what had roused me from my sleep. Jumping out of bed, I followed the sliver of light peeking out from under the closed door, allowing it to lead the way in the dark room.
The sight that greeted me when I burst into the bathroom snapped my heart in two. My wife was on her knees, head hung over the toilet, retching so hard it looked like she was convulsing with each attempt to rid her body of whatever was making her sick.
I rushed to her side and dropped to my knees, placing my hand on her back. “Sweetheart, what can I do?”
She lifted her head, and my heart took another direct hit—shattering it into a million pieces. Tears rolled down her ghostly-white face as she looked at me with bloodshot eyes filled with agony.
“Go. I d-don’t want y-you to see me—”
Her head whipped away from me as she retched again. I knew what she was going to say without her finishing, but there was no way I was leaving her alone. Getting to my feet, I gently pulled her vomit-coated hair back from her face.
While still puking, she reached back to swat my hands away, but I didn’t remove them. I shouldn’t have smiled at a time like this, but I couldn’t help it; it repaired a tiny piece of my heart to know she still had some spunk in her.
A few minutes later, the heaving began to slow. When it finally stopped completely, her body sagged against me. Releasing her hair, I sat down on the floor behind her and pulled her into my lap, cradling her in my arms. We sat in silence for a while, my wife's head resting against my chest.
“You should have woken me.” I brushed the hair back that had fallen into her face with one hand and kissed her forehead. “Do you think you have the flu?”
She gave a small shrug, then said, “Or maybe it’s the food.”
We’d both ordered the French dip with fries, and it didn’t seem to be bothering me, so I wasn’t sure that was it.
“I hate seeing you sick,” I told her, dropping another kiss on her, this time the top of her head.
Patience squirmed a bit in my embrace. “You’ve got to stop kissing me! I have vomit splattered all over me, and I stink.”
“I wouldn’t care if you were covered in vomit from head to toe—I’d still kiss you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”
“Nothing will keep me away from you, but how about a shower?”
Tilting her head back, she looked up at me with red, tired eyes. “I don’t think I have the energy for us in the shower right now.”
My girl had a slight tease in her voice; she was trying to joke with me but didn’t quite pull it off due to her lack of energy.
“I promise to be on my best behavior and just wash your hair for you.” I sniffed a couple of times. “‘Cause you do kinda stink,” I told her playfully.
“Brat,” she said, with a little more oomph in her voice.
I chuckled but didn’t deny her assessment as I slowly moved her off my lap so we could both stand up. Once on our feet, I walked over and turned on the water to warm up before walking back to stand in front of Patience.
“How is your stomach feeling?” I asked as I gently pulled off the shirt—mine—she’d put on over her head.
When the fabric cleared her face, so I could see her again, she looked like she wanted to say something important. But all that came out was, “It settled a little bit.”
I stared at her for a beat, trying to figure out what she wasn’t telling me. She was holding something back, and it was eating at her. For the time being, I decided not to push.
“You know if you’re not feeling well, you don’t have to go with me today… Or I could just postpone the whole thing,” I told her as I leaned down and slid her panties off her legs.
Standing back up straight—being the perfect gentleman and ignoring my wife's lush body while she was sick—I was met with those red eyes again. Only this time, it wasn’t just from being sick. No, now they were fueled with fire—directed right at me.
With her hands on the perfect curve of each hip, her voice raised a couple of octaves, and she let me have it. “No way in hell are you not going, buster. And you will not be leaving me behind!” Staring me down, she didn’t waver. “You got it?”
I didn’t know whether to take a step back to get away from her, laugh because she said ‘hell’—something she usually refrained from—which amused me even though it meant she was pissed, or kiss my wife senseless.
Raising my palms in surrender, I tried to hide the smirk pulling at my mouth. “Okay, I got it,” I told her as I dropped my hands and removed my boxers. “I will go and promise not to leave you behind.”
Her hands left her hips, and she pointed a finger at me. “Don’t think I don’t see you trying to hide that smile.”
That made it impossible to hold in. Along with the amused smile that slipped free, laughter followed.
Patience huffed and stomped her foot, which only made me chuckle harder. That foot-stomping shit she did when mad was cute as hell.
“I’m taking a shower, and you’re not invited,” she said in mock outrage as she tried to pass me.
She wasn’t truly mad, I knew that for a fact, because I could read my girl like a book. Just like I knew she was hiding something from me that I was going to figure out or get her to cop to. But even though she rallied a little, I could still tell she wasn’t feeling well.
Stepping in front of her, I blocked her path. “Baby, you’re not showering without me.” I grabbed both her hands in mine. “I want to take care of you.”
Her eyes softened. “Okay,” she said quietly.
We moved toward the shower that had been running for some time during our tiny showdown. It was a good thing the hotel had plenty of hot water. Once we stepped in, I positioned her under the spray to wet her hair before turning her back to me.
Grabbing the bottle of shampoo Patience had brought with her—something floral and fresh, probably with daisies in it—I dumped a glob into the palm of my hand and weaved my fingers into her stands, massaging her scalp as I saturated her locks.
“That feels heavenly,” she moaned, for what seemed an eternity. “Don’t stop,” came next in a breathless whisper.
Fuck.
My cock had a mind of its own, and the woman in front of me could stir up desire with the simplest touch or just one look.
Hell, just being in close proximity had that effect on me.
So I didn’t stand a chance of keeping it completely under control while she was naked, moaning, and talking to me in that tone.
However, I wouldn’t do a thing about it—it wasn’t the time. It also wasn’t the first time I had to ignore it. I’d done that for many years before marrying Patience just months ago. My wife had been the only woman to make me feel an ounce of desire, lust, or that I’d ever loved.
And she would be the last.
“It’s always been you.”
Patience spun in my arms—causing my hands to drop from her head—her eyes assessing me softly. “What?”
That was when I realized I’d spoken the last part. “I guess I was thinking out loud,” I told her. “I love you, Roo. I still can’t believe I wasted so much time not telling you before now.”
She placed her palms on my bare chest, and a tingle raced through my body. Her touch was electric. While we’d always been affectionate, this was different. It was filled with so many more feelings that we allowed ourselves to show one another now.
“It’s okay,” she told me, running her hands up and down my abdomen—clearly trying to kill me. “You told me now, and I could have spoken up too.”
Her nails scratched my bare, wet skin, and my dick jumped to attention. She didn’t even realize what she was doing to me. That was until my hardened length poked her belly. Patience’s gaze flicked down between our bodies and then back up to meet my eyes.
“Sorry,” she said, sheepishly pulling her hands free from my body.
I rubbed my hands up and down her arms. “Don’t be. I seem to always be in a state of arousal around you. Not something we need to worry about right now with the day we have ahead.”
That thought had my raging erection already deflating. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get through the next couple of days.
My wife wrapped her arms around my waist and looked up at me. “We’ll get through it together, honey. I promise not to leave your side unless you need space at any point. Then just ask.”
She’s the reason you are going to make it through this.
“I couldn’t do this without you,” I told her, my voice gravelly with emotion.
“You’re the strongest man I know, so I think you could.” She leaned in and kissed my chest, then pulled back. “But you don’t have to. Ever.”
Moving my hand from her arm, I swept it across her chest to cover her heart, not missing the slight grimace on her face before she masked it. What the heck was that? She couldn’t still be hurting from the attack; she’d been fine.
While my mind raced, I continued. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, and I am so damn lucky that you gave me a piece of it. I’m glad you’re with me.”
“This is the only place I’d be right now, because I love you too.”
“Thank God for that,” I said, smiling. “Let’s finish your hair.”
Returning my smile, she turned around. “I won’t say no to that.”
She sighed as my hands began rubbing her scalp again, and I was glad it felt good to her. As I worked through her hair, my mind raced, taking stock of what I had noticed this morning.
My wife was sick, puking. She looked tired, but there had been a lot going on. But was that it or something else? Then another thought entered my head. Her breasts were sore. It may not have hurt badly, but when my hand touched her there was discomfort.
Something niggled at my brain.
Suddenly it hit me.
She couldn’t be. Could she?