Page 165 of Filthy Savage

He gives Louise a tense stare. “You call me next time, no matter what she says.”

“Yes, sir.” Her shoulders sag.

“And you…” He settles on the bed beside me, the back of his hand stroking my cheek. “If you weren’t so damn sick, I’d be angry at you for keeping this from me. I knew as soon as I left the house that I should’ve stayed.”

I grab his wrist. “This was important. I didn’t want you to miss it.”

“Fuck, Amara. Do you not understand how importantyouare to me?” He clasps my cheek, lowering his forehead to mine.

“Don’t do that!” I try to push him back, but he doesn’t budge. “You’re gonna get sick.”

“I don’t care. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I whisper.

He groans, clasping both sides of my face. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said you missed me.”

Was it?

“Where the hell is the doctor?” He backs away, blowing a heavy breath while retrieving his cell and staring down at it. “He’ll be here in five minutes.”

“I’m okay,” I try to reassure him, placing a hand on his bouncing knee, but it doesn’t stop it from shaking.

“You don’t look okay, so don’t bullshit me.”

Just then, someone knocks on the door. Roy walks in with a tall, lanky man who’s holding a brown leather briefcase.

“Took you long enough,” Fionn clips out.

“I’m sorry, sir. There was some traffic.”

“Get to it.”

The doctor’s thick brows jerk as he clears his throat. “May I ask you to sit, Mrs. Quinn, or do you feel lightheaded?”

“I’m okay to sit up.”

Thankfully, the nausea has subsided, so that’s promising.

He asks me about my symptoms and how they began, then swabs my nose and throat before handing me a cup for the urine sample. I don’t even bother asking why, because all I want is to be back in bed.

Fionn hooks his arm through mine and leads me to the master bath, and as soon as I try to separate so I can go inside, he doesn’t let me.

“What are you doing?” My face pales.

There’s no way he’s going in with me.

“Making sure you don’t collapse on the floor.”

I would try to look as shocked as I feel, but I don’t think I can move much. “Fionn, I can’t do that in front of you.”

“We’re married, little rabbit. There’s nothing to be shy about.” He leads me inside and shuts the door. “I’ll turn around if that helps.”

“Got any earplugs?”

He laughs while my face contorts, and my teeth clack when a chill wafts through my limbs.

Screw it. I don’t even care right now. Just need to be under my blanket again.

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