Within These Walls (Within These Walls #1)(35)

“Jude. Just Jude.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So, are you going to help me out with this?” I pointed to the glob of pudding still clinging to my skin.

Her eyes traveled to where the direction of my outstretched finger, and I could see the hesitation. Finally, she leaned into me, her long strands of hair tickling my arm, as she nuzzled into my chest. I could smell the fruity essence of her shampoo as her warm, wet tongue darted out to touch my skin. I instinctively moved my hand to her waist, pulling her closer, and I reveled in the feel of her. She didn’t show an ounce of innocence as her body molded to mine. Her mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses, until it found my eager lips.

I groaned, feeling the timid touch of her heated fingers brush against the fabric of the top of my scrubs. My hand slipped under her shirt as I lay back, pulling her with me. The instant my hand touched her bare skin, I knew something was wrong. My eyes flew open, and I stilled, startling her.

“You’re burning up.” I gently laid her back down on the bed.

“It’s just hot in here,” she replied, sitting up to adjust her shirt.

Her hands flew to the collar of her shirt, and I watched as she retreated back into her shell. Was she afraid I had changed my mind?

I took a look at her cheeks. I’d mistaken the faint blush I saw earlier for nervousness or passion, but it wasn’t due to any emotion at all.

Lailah was running a fever.

I let out a puff of air as I prepared to be the bad guy.

She was definitely not going home tomorrow.

Thirteen: Meeting Mom—Lailah

ANY SPECULATION AS to what was or was not going on between a certain CNA and me was made crystal clear when Jude’s dormant alpha tendencies came bubbling to the surface in a major way the second he felt my feverish skin. He’d flown out of my room and demanded the nurses call Dr. Marcus. I could hear him from my bed as he barked orders and expected immediate results.

The powerful surname he’d just revealed to me suddenly seemed fitting.

I should have been embarrassed. I should have been shrinking down in my hospital bed, rolling my eyes, and counting the minutes until the sound of his deep voice had quieted in the hall and I had the chance to chastise him for his overbearing behavior.

But I did none of that.

Instead, in my fever-induced fascination, I’d watched as he marched out of my room, his gait full of hurried purpose. I’d been listening as the deep timbre of his commands reminded me of the fight we’d had when I accused him of not caring. Then, I thought of the kiss that had followed.

He kissed me.

And now he’s taking care of me.

It turned out that over the next several hours, I’d need all the help I could get. The fever gave way to chills, which then transitioned into vomiting and cold sweats. I’d caught a virus that was aggressive and, of course, nonresponsive to antibiotics. The irony of living in a hospital was that it was actually one of the cleanest, germ-infested places to be. There were so many sick people all stuffed into one place. No matter how hard the staff tried to keep it clean, it was still a giant petri dish for bacteria and viruses.

Dr. Marcus told me this particular virus had to work its way through my system before I’d feel human again. Within a few hours of becoming feverish, I was convinced that it was trying to kill me.

The moment news of a fever spread, everyone entering my room slapped on a hospital mask, except for Jude.

For the remainder of his shift, he didn’t leave my side, and he stayed with me well past the time he’d clocked out. After his earlier heroic display, no one seemed willing to step up and argue with him about leaving, not even Dr. Marcus. Although, he didn’t look too pleased when he walked into my room to find Jude lying beside me on the bed.

I drifted off sometime around five in the morning after Jude had seen me at my absolute worst. He’d held my hair as I heaved and cried in the bathroom. Drying my tears, he had gotten me a glass of water and helped me back into bed, only to carry me back into the bathroom when the nausea and sickness started all over again. He never complained or seemed repulsed, but I guessed it was due to his job.

I just hadn’t wanted to be part of his job—or at least, not this part.

Vomiting mere hours after my first kiss wasn’t exactly how I’d pictured it.

Maybe an hour or two after falling asleep, I awoke, hearing the door snap shut. My eyes peeked open, and I peered over to find a sleeping Jude next to me. Sitting in the blue chair, his large frame was bent forward, and he was resting his head on his forearms.

Lifting my hand, I winced, remembering the IV that was now connected. Clear fluids were being pumped into my body to counteract the lack of food and water. I softly raked my hand through his hair, careful not to wake him. I heard a shuffle of feet, reminding me that the door had shut and awoken me moments earlier.

I turned to see my mother standing by the doorway, watching me. Her eyes were frozen on the man sleeping next to me while my fingers stood completely frozen in Jude’s unruly hair.

“Dr. Marcus didn’t call me until this morning,” she said softly, her gaze still fixed on Jude.

“It’s just a virus,” I said. “Rough night though.”

I watched as she took him in—his scrubs, the scrolling dark ink on his arms, and back to the place where my hand was resting in his hair. I started to pull my hand back, but I stopped myself.