Fall (VIP #3)(52)

She’s telling me something important as she examines me. I just don’t care. As long as she makes this pain and hot hell go, I’ll do anything she wants. She swabs my throat and then she’s gone. John is back, forcing fluids down my hellfire throat.

It’s a haze after that. I know he’s here. He lies down next to me, his hands drifting through my damp hair with soothing strokes. It feels too good, and I move closer. He is cool compared to my flame. His arm curls around me, drawing me against his chest. My head finds the crook where his shoulder meets his arm. A perfect resting spot, and I relax with a sigh.

I don’t know how long we stay like that. Time passes, I know. He gives me the antibiotics the doctor prescribed, helps me to the bathroom when I have to go. Helps me back to bed when I’m done. We always settle in the same position. His fingers in my hair, my hand burrowing under his shirt to find his smooth, cool skin.

Any sense of self-consciousness burns away with my fever. My world narrows down to pain and trying to escape it. John helps me escape. He takes care of me. My fever peaks in the middle of the night, and he’s there, wiping my arms with a cold cloth that burns along my skin.

“Easy,” he whispers in the dark. “We’ve got to cool you down, Button. Easy now.”

That voice, smooth and gentle, grounds me, makes me do what it wishes. I concentrate on that voice throughout the night and into the morning.

I don’t know why he doesn’t leave me, but am afraid to ask in case I give him ideas. Doesn’t matter; he stays. He stays, and he has no idea what that means to me. I haven’t been cared for like this since my mom died. Part of me wants him to go. I can’t become attached to him. Because no one stays forever and the leaving hurts too much.

But I don’t say a word. I cling like the weak woman I am.

At some point the next day, he forces me to eat some soup. I am not a good patient, pushing his hand away with a snarl every time the damn spoon hovers in front of my face.

“If you dribble your soup,” he tells me, smiling with his eyes, “we’ll have to put you in the shower.”

I glare at him, spoon pressed between my lips, then sag against the pillows. “Actually, I need to shower. I feel gross.”

John sets down the soup I’ve been avoiding for the past half hour. “Well, let’s get you showered.”

“Alone, rocker boy.”

A look of reproach shoots my way. “I’ve already had about ten chances to see you naked today.” John stands and holds out his hand. “Believe me, I have no interest in that.”

I stare up at him. “Why? What’s wrong with my body?”

He chokes on a laugh. “You’re serious now? Stella Button, your body is fucking gorgeous.” His eyes heat, and he looks me up and down. “Any place, any time you want to get naked for me, I will be there. With fucking bells on. But not when you’re sick. We get naked, it will be when you’re healthy and wanting it. Panting for it.”

God, the way he looks at me. Like he’s picturing it in detail. Like he’s a little dizzy with the idea. Then again, I’m dizzy too. Right now, I don’t know if it’s the fever or him. Maybe both. “We are not getting naked.”

I wish that had sounded more emphatic.

His lips quirk to the side, but he fails to hide the amused smile in his eyes. “Not today.” He grabs my hand and hauls me up. “Into the shower with you, Stells. No offense, but you kind of stink.”

My head is leaden, and I lean against him even as I nudge his ribs. “Ass.”

He smiles as he walks me into the bathroom. “And to think women claim they want total honesty.”

“Silence is also appreciated in some situations.”

John snickers, then gets the shower ready. He leaves me to it but insists on staying by the door outside. “Call me if you’re in trouble. I mean it,” he says with a tone that is downright bossy. “If you feel dizzy. If you wobble at all, you call me. I’ll close my eyes if you’re worried about me seeing you, but I’m not having you faint and hurt yourself. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.” I give him a weak salute. Truth is, my head is becoming heavier, and I need to get clean before I really do sag to the floor.

My shower is quick. I can’t linger the way I want. My body weighs a thousand pounds, and my throat still hurts. I want to lie down, but the cool water is glorious.

At some point, John slides fresh clothes in for me. They rest in a neat pile on the floor by the door. I don’t exactly like that he picked through my panty drawer, but I’m grateful regardless.

Feeling a little more human, I open the door and find him waiting just as he promised.

“Better?” he asks, keeping his eyes on my face. He’d left me a tank top and sleep shorts to change into. Skimpy but nice and cool. And frankly, I don’t care if he sees the outline of my nipples. Comfort beats out modesty at the moment.

“Yes.” But I’m fading. My voice is weak and my head pounds from standing up for too long.

Utterly patient, he holds out his big, calloused hand, and I let him guide me back to a freshly made bed.

I don’t hesitate to slide all the way into the middle, making room for him. I need him there so much, I’m tempted to plead, but I don’t have to. He follows me into the bed and, when I tuck myself against his side, he covers us with the blanket. My hair is damp, and he lifts it to drape over his shoulder before wrapping an arm around me.