Page 62 of Sweet Nothings

“Please,” I beg. I don’t care how weak or pathetic I sound. “Please, Lennon…”

“Laurel.” My name falling from his gorgeous mouth incinerates my insides. He doesn’t often call me by my first name.

“Please,” I beg again. “I need to feel you inside me. It’s been too long, and I’m too sick to care how pathetic I sound. I think you’re the only medicine I need right now.”

My lower belly blooms with heat. It’s hard to discern how much of the heat across my body is from my sickness or from my proximity to Lennon. I think even if I weren’t sick, I’d still be just as hot.

A thin film of sweat coats my skin as Lennon moves his hand from my breast to the side of my face. I love when he holds me like this. It reminds me of our first kiss. Well, not exactly ourfirstkiss. That kiss was six years ago in the back of his car.

This type of kiss reminds me of our first as husband and wife.

“Only if you do something for me first.” Our faces are so close, I feel like I’m stretching to reach him. He holds back, using his hand on the side of my face to keep me just out of his reach.

He doesn’t allow me to answer. Placing a gentle kiss on my forehead, he pulls away from me. The air he leaves behind is cold. Shivering, I curl myself into a ball and wrap the sheets around me. I watch as Lennon leaves the bedroom. He returns a few minutes later with a glass of ice water. He sets it down on his nightstand and walks over to the personal pharmacy he brought home. After finding what he’s looking for, he turns around and holds his hand out to me.

“Please take these.” Another smile emerges across his mouth. “I know you said I’m the only medicine you need, but just in case...”

Although his words are playful, there’s sincere concern woven into his blue eyes. Clouded by the darkness in our bedroom, his worry is still obvious. I do as he says and pull myarm out from under the sheet, uncurl my fingers, and hold out my hand.

“Fine,” I mutter. “If you insist.”

He drops two pills into my palm. I sit up enough until my head is upright, then pop the two pills into the back of my throat. Lennon hands me the glass of water. I drink nearly all of it, not realizing how dehydrated I must be. The water is cool and soothes my throat on its way down. I sigh, still shivering with a fever as I slither back under the blankets.

I watch him as he climbs into bed beside me. Shadows and darkness cover his entire body, and I’m sad I can’t see him clearly from here. I still feel like there’s so much of Lennon to explore. So much I still don’t know, both inside and out.

Hope deflates in my chest when he doesn’t return to the same position as before. He’s only inches away from me now, but he doesn’t link his legs with mine or lift the hem of my shirt to touch me.

“Feel better?” he softly asks.

“A little,” I admit. “I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”

“Good.” Still not moving to touch me, he twists, shifting to face his nightstand. He reaches inside the glass, pulling out a cube of ice.

I inhale a sharp breath when he reaches his hand out, placing the cube of ice on my neck, directly on my pulse.

More goosebumps spread across my skin. Part of the ice melts, a trail of water gliding down my neck and over my chest.

“Does this feel better?” he asks, delight mingled with the concern in his voice. He inches closer to me again, but still not close enough for my legs to wrap around him.

“Yes.” I quiver. It’s a conundrum being both hot and cold. My body is melting but I can’t seem to shake the shiver refusing to give up.

After holding the cube against my pulse for a few seconds, he reaches behind him and grabs a fresh cube. He lifts his hand and slinks it back under my shirt. I hiccup a sharp breath when he circles the fresh cube around my hardened nipple.

“How about now?” His voice has grown considerably deeper, as if the thrill of my reaction is now a conquest he must explore. Each new destination with an ice cube pushes him further. I must admit, though, his ice cube trick is working.

“Definitely,” I moan, my eyes fluttering. I can’t decide whether to keep them closed or open, focused on the fire in Lennon’s gaze.

He glides the ice cube over my nipple, coating my breast in cool water. I turn away from him and lay on my back, facing the ceiling. I arch my back as he drags the ice cube to my other breast, repeating the same motion. He’s coating my fevered body in iced water.

Once the second ice cube has melted, he reaches for another one. This time, he doesn’t hesitate before placing it between my thighs and slipping his hand under the front of my black lace panties. He parts my folds with the tip of the cube, pressing it firmly against my swollen clit.

I arch my back again, sucking a breath in between my teeth. Lennon’s mouth is against the hollow of my ear.

“What about now?” He growls.

“Lennon,” I whimper, unable to describe how I’m feeling. I know I’m still sick. I know the illness is still coursing through my bones and veins, wreaking havoc, but something about being touched this way when I feel like dying inside makes me feel alive.

As he would his fingers, Lennon circles the ice cube over my clit. I moan again, bucking my hips to the ceiling.

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