Page 54 of While You Sleep

His chest expanded sharply, and he gripped my hair. “That right?”

“Yes.” He laid me down and the room did a full three-sixty. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh, what?”

“I’m gonna throw up.” I scrambled out of bed, tripping and stumbling into the bathroom, then dropped to my knees in front of the toilet and emptied my stomach. “I’m never drinking again,” I wailed and heaved.

A few moments later Cillian was there. “Okay, baby,” he said behind me. I felt his hands in my hair, tying it back. “Here.” He tilted my head back gently and wiped my face with a cool cloth. “Better?”

“I think so,” I muttered, then another wave of nausea hit. “Nope.” I spun around and heaved again, nothing much coming up, since Fi and I kind of forgot to have dinner, but that didn’t stop my body from trying anyway.

“You’re all right, pet,” Cillian murmured, rubbing my back.

“Keep rubbing my back,” I said between retches. “It makes me feel better.”

“Not gonna stop, Soph.”

His voice was soothing as well. Man, I was tired. “Never drinking again,” I said again and groaned.

“I know, beauty.”

“You think there’s something wrong with me—”

“No.”

“All the things you did…” I swallowed convulsively. “You kill people…and I…I want you anyway. I want you and I shouldn’t, should I?”

He rubbed my back again. “Nothing wrong with you, Soph, not one fucking thing.”

My eyes grew impossibly heavy. I rested my head on my arms and closed my eyes.

I woke hours later in bed. As soon as I stirred, Cillian was handing me painkillers and a glass of water. I drank them down and fell back to sleep.

* * *

It was after ten in the morning when I finally woke and stayed awake, and Cillian was gone. I remembered him murmuring to me softly, holding my hair out of the way while I was sick, wiping my face with a cool cloth, rubbing my back. He’d held me all night, I knew that as well because every time I woke, he was there, making sure I was okay, making me drink water, taking care of me in a way no one had for a very long time.

The last person to look after me when I was sick was my mom. Fiona was awesome, too. She’d drop off soup if I had a cold, make sure I was stocked up with flu medicine. But what Cillian had done was something else, he’d wiped my face after I puked and promised everything would be okay, and I’d believed him.

The rest came flooding back, and my face heated.

My sweet, sexy, murdery husband.

You’re cute, you know that?

I’d booped him on the nose, then I’d asked him to make out with me.

He’d smiled.

God, he’d laughed.

Warmth flooded me, but not from embarrassment this time—well, not only embarrassment.

That is, until I remembered the rest. I’d asked him to “fuck me awake.” I mean, I’d thought about it, more than once, but I’d actually said it out loud.

Cringing, I shoved down the memory, tossed back the covers, and eased out of bed, more than a little relieved that, besides a dull headache, I didn’t feel too bad. No doubt thanks to the painkillers Cillian had given me earlier.

I checked his office, then headed downstairs, but he wasn’t there either. Conor was sitting out on the deck. He turned to me and grinned. “Headache?”

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