Page 43 of Wicked Games

“Yeah.” He hugs it tight and shoots me a half smile. “I know.”

Shaking my head at how ridiculous this entire situation is, I pull my phone out of my pocket again. Might as well get some lunch sent up while I wait for my dumbass stepbrother to wake up.

12

FELIX

Slowly,I blink my eyes open as I shake off the last remnants of sleep. With a low groan, I scrub my hand over my face and slowly sit up.

“Morning, sunshine.”

I jump at Killian’s voice and whip my head toward the voice so fast the world around me shimmers, and everything tilts dangerously to the left.

“Don’t pass out.” He gets off the couch and tucks his phone away. “Water.” He points to my bedside table.

I glance at it, surprised to see a silver tray laden with a tall glass of water, a small pitcher with a slightly cloudy liquid, and a pile of single-serving snacks.

Scooting closer, I pick up the water and take a few sips. The cool liquid coats my dry throat, and it’s only then I realize how thirsty I am.

I gulp down the rest of it, spilling some down my front in my haste. I expect Killian to make a crack about how he can’t believe I made it to nineteen when I can’t even drink from a glass, but he doesn’t.

Instead he comes to stand next to my bed and scrutinizes me intently.

“Easy,” he cautions when I reach for the pitcher. “You’re going to make yourself puke if you drink too much too fast.” He picks up a small pouch of applesauce, like the kind people give to kids, and hands it to me. “Try this and see if you can keep it down.”

Dutifully, I twist off the top and put the little spout to my lips. The applesauce is tart and a bit warm, and I finish the pouch in one long squeeze.

“How long have you been taking them?” he asks as I recap the pouch.

“I’ve had the scripts for years.” I toss the pouch onto the tray but don’t reach for anything else. He was right. I need to give my stomach a break, or I’ll puke all over myself.

“Not what I asked.”

“Since last Wednesday.”

He nods slowly. “Why then?”

“What do you mean?” I resist the urge to squirm under his intense stare.

“Why did you start last Wednesday?” He crosses his arms over his chest, making his muscles pop.

I look away. “Because I couldn’t sleep.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep?”

I shrug, still not meeting his gaze.

“Are you freaking out because you sucked my dick?”

My gaze darts to his involuntarily, and I do my best to keep the shock off my face. This is the first time either of us has acknowledged what happened, and a part of me figured we never would. That the whole thing was just a weird one-off triggered by heightened emotions and bad decisions that would stay buried in the past.

He smirks. “Why do you look so surprised? Did you forget you put my dick in your mouth?”

“No.” I shake my head. “And that’s not why.”

“Then why?”

I shrug and look away again.

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