Page 65 of His Sassy Omega
Great, Wade had come back to his desk at some point. There was no way he hadn’t heard us, well me, really. I’d been the one making all the noise. Quinn’s mouth had been too full of my cock.
Quinn laughed. “Don’t be jealous.” He drawled the last word into about three syllables.
“I should get a bonus for having to listen to that.” He wasn’t wrong. He really should. No one should have to listen to your best friend, and your boss, having sex at the office. There were just lines that shouldn’t be crossed.
“Talk to your boss about that. Byyeeee!”
I’d managed to get my pants on by the time Wade came and shut my office door again, shielding his eyes with his hand dramatically. “Christmas bonus. Big bonus! Huge!”
Chapter Seventeen
Quinn
My eyes flew open in the darkness. It took me a minute to figure out what had woken me up from the exhausted sleep I’d fallen into hours earlier. My stomach rolled, a low pain shooting through it. My mouth watered, and I moaned, lurching up and out of my bed quickly.
I barely made it to the bathroom, falling to my knees in front of the toilet, as hot bile spewed from my mouth. I gasped for air when it was finally over, falling onto the cool tiles of my bathroom floor. Heat had flooded through me, but now I was shivering.
Fuck. What was that?
Had I eaten something that didn’t agree with me? My head pounded, and I laid there with my eyes closed, shivering, but too exhausted to get up and move back to my warm bed. What had I eaten? I couldn’t even remember what I’d eaten yesterday. I’d skipped dinner, too tired to care. I’d come home and passed out in my bed.
I floated for a time, caught between sleep and consciousness, before deciding maybe I was done puking. It had only been the one time, and I was starting to feel a little better. So probably not food poisoning, then.
I reached up with a shaky hand to feel my forehead. I didn’t feel like I had a fever.
Weird. I usually didn’t randomly puke my guts up unless I was really drunk. I rarely got the stomach flu, but I must have caught some kind of bug.
I stood up on shaky legs, grasping the sink, and rinsing my mouth out with cold water. I looked at myself in the mirror, grimacing at the sight. I was pale, my eyes dimmed. Dark, purple bruises had taken up residence under my eyes. I was exhausted, and it showed. I looked like shit. Maybe this was just my body's way of telling me it had had enough.
I couldn’t seem to get enough sleep last week. I went to bed tired and woke up tired. I’d be glad to get through the rest of December and the holidays. Maybe we’d close for a few days between Christmas and New Year’s. Josh and the girls could use a break, and I just wanted to sleep for a week. It didn’t seem to matter if I got four hours or ten hours of sleep each night, I woke up feeling like I hadn’t slept any. Any naps I caught in between just seemed to make it worse.
I dragged myself back to my bed, one hand on my still iffy stomach. My head was pounding, but I was afraid to take anything for it. I wasn’t sure if I’d just puke it back up and didn’t want to risk it. I just wanted to go back to sleep. I crawled under the warm blankets, my eyes already drifting shut.
I wanted Lachlan. My eyes flew open at that thought.
I’d thought it when I was hunched over, praying to the porcelain god, as I held my hair back from my face. I’d wished Lachlan was there, to hold my hair, rub my back, whisper I was going to be ok.
To put a cool, damp rag on the back of my burning neck. To carry me back to bed, because my legs were shaking, trembling and unsteady.
What was the man doing to me? I never wanted anyone when I was not feeling well. The few times I’d ever been sick, even as a kid, I’d just wanted to be left alone.
I wanted him now, though.
Wished he was in my bed, stroking my hair back from my hot, sweaty, yet clammy skin. Running a hand over my aching, cramping stomach, soothing me.
I closed my eyes, telling myself I needed to get over my delirium before tomorrow, and the festival.
I didn’t have time for some mysterious illness. I just needed some sleep.
I showed up at our booth at the festival the next morning, a half-hour late. I’d had trouble getting out of bed. I’d had to stop to puke two more times, before I could muster the energy to shower and get dressed. I’d been halfway out my front door when I’d had to rush back into my house. I’d ended up puking in my kitchen sink since it was closer than my bathroom.
I’d told myself I’d check in with Josh, see how I felt, and if I needed to just sit in a chair and run the register, I could manage that. I didn’t feel like I had a fever, or any other symptoms, besides exhaustion and a couple of random bouts of puking. I had a throbbing headache though, but I figured I was slightly dehydrated from the vomiting. I’d barely puked anything up the last time, mostly stomach acid and dry heaving.
It didn’t feel like the flu, or food poisoning. Maybe it was just stress. I’d been freaking myself out about telling Lachlan how I felt about kids and thinking he would walk away. Normally the thought of that happening wouldn’t have fazed me, but Lachlan had turned my life on its head. Every time I thought about what would happen when I’d think about him ending things, I’d become breathless and shaky, and my cat would howl in misery.
That was part of the reason I’d started googling facts on fated mates. I’d needed to have some kind of explanation for all the things I was feeling, and for why I’d been the emotional, crazy wreck I’d been becoming around him.
“Jesus, you look like shit,” Josh told me when I entered our booth. I tried to smile but knew it was a weak attempt, and it felt like a grimace.
