Page 28 of It's Holy Matrimony, Baby

He groans again. “Need a minute.”

I swallow hard and take a breath to steady myself. Whatever this is... it’s not to do with our predicament. “Okay. I’m here. Tell me how to help.”

He settles a big hand in my hair, curls his fingers in it. I wince and bite my lip when it tugs at my scalp. “My angel.”

I shift my weight from one leg to the other and lock my arms around his waist. He called me that the night we spent together too. Angel. Like I could save him. I think I liked it too. At the time. But it doesn’t mean anything. And he said he didn’t need anything, so what could I help him with? “Help me get you to a seat?”

“Okay.” He sways as he gets his feet under him properly, and I take his weight and lead him to the couch.

“Thanks.” He slumps into the cushions, rests his head on the plump back. His eyes close and thick black lashes dust his cheeks. He’s gorgeous. Handsome would be an understatement. His mouth is sinful. His top lip slightly thinner than the bottom. His jaw is covered in thick stubble, though it’s not quite a full beard like it was yesterday morning. More like it was the first time we met.

I sit on the coffee table, my legs between his, my knees touching his thighs. Warmth spreads where we touch. There’s a rip in the knee of his jeans. The loose threads tease me. My heart slows and speeds up. I don’t dare trust myself. “Do you need anything? Can I get...” I glance around for something that will help. I don’t even know what’s wrong with him. “How do I help?”

His hand encloses my wrist, the rough pad of his thumb rubs a small circle on the inside. “I’m okay. Just a little dizzy. Didn’t eat today.” His mouth twists into a wry smile. “Or yesterday.”

“Oh.” This I can do something about. I get up in a hurry, get stuck between his legs. He still has a hold of my wrist too. It feels nice. Too nice. Makes my skin tingle where we connect.

“Easy, Angel. Don’t fret.”

“I’m not fretting.” I’m not. That’s not what I’m doing. Just because he almost passed out on me doesn’t mean I’m any more concerned than any normal person would be. I take a deep breath. “I’m going to order some room service.”

“You don’t need to do that,” he says. “I can look after myself.”

I get the feeling if he wasn’t so drained he’d argue the point. Like he’s too proud, or he’s used to taking care of everything himself. But right now he needs someone to look after him, so I make up a reason. One I plan on sticking to. “Can’t kick you out without making sure you can get home in one piece.”

He chuckles softly as he lets go of my wrist. His fingers tickle mine and then land on his thigh. “Okay then, Beck Casey.”

“Okay.” I carefully extricate myself from between his legs while I hold my tongue. I’ve used Casey as my alias for so long now I should be used to it, but the way he says it is like a stroke of his fingers on my skin. I could tell him to stop. Maybe I should. But it’s easier not to. Now where’s that menu?

I find the folder in the kitchenette and study it while I call down to the hotel kitchen. Nox starts to breathe in a soft rhythmic way, like he’s fallen asleep. I have no idea what he eats. Only that he can’t refer to oranges without cussing, so I shouldn’t order anything with them.

Five minutes later, I’ve ordered half the menu, including some kind of chocolate dessert and key lime pie. Nox doesn’t move. His hands rest on his thighs, his fingers pointed toward his crotch. His wide muscular chest rises and sinks deeply. I don’t know what to do with myself. With my hands. With the image of him climbing out of bed naked.

Inside I’m warm. Too warm. Outside I’m damp. Sweaty from my walk, not from how hot he is. The food won’t come for a little while yet. I detour to the bar for a bottle of wine and then quietly head to the bathroom to take a cold shower.

I’m not used to company. I spend too much time in hotel rooms. I like it though. It’s easier to keep people at bay when you’re transient. That’s why I travel with Liv. Why my work is all done from my laptop.

I can’t put down roots. I tried to once. Biggest mistake of my life. Wanting what normal people want, family and home, is not for me. I like my independence too much. So does Liv. We worked out a long time ago that we could travel together as long as we gave each other space, which means we eat breakfast together and occasionally share happy hour cocktails. But unlike Liv, who can always find someone to share dinner with, I spend my evenings alone.

Sharing dinner with Nox is different.

I sit on the floor cross-legged, while he’s seated across from me on the couch, shovelling food into his mouth. Several dishes are spread out between us. Some of them are practically scraped clean. Others are half empty. Already finished, I balance my empty plate on my knee. I’ve never seen anyone eat so much. I keep peeking at him through my lashes, watching him while he devours everything I ordered. Does he always eat like this? Or is this because he hasn’t eaten in two days? Or is it because I bought so much? The last thought makes me a little pleased. That’s not a good thing.

“What are you thinking?” He puts his plate down on the table and leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Some of that perfect hair falls across his eyes and I want to push it back so I can see them properly.

“You were hungry.”

“I was,” he agrees.

“Do you always eat like that or...” His gaze gets a little colder, and I glance at the empty dishes across the table. I’m worried, where I have no right to be worried. I’m poking when it’s not my place. I can’t get to know him better. That’s not what this is about.

“I don’t always have time,” he says, getting up. He moves to the kitchenette where there are still two more plates. Opening a drawer, he finds silverware. It clatters on the plates as he picks them up. “And you bought all this food because you were worried about me. I wanted you to know that I appreciated it.”

Something inside me eases off as he joins me on the carpet and hands me the plate with the key lime pie. “Good. I’m glad. You had me concerned before.”

He grimaces and reaches for the back of his neck, rubbing it with his fingers. “I’m sorry that I scared you. It’s been a rough week. I’ve been working a lot of hours recently. Trying to set things right.” His jaw clenches tight, pain etches his features. He doesn’t continue, and I don’t press. Not all of the sadness in his eyes can possibly be because of his neck.

“Let me help,” I say, setting the dessert aside.

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