Page 47 of The Affair
“Oh God…” I groaned, my eyes peering down to the plaid nightmare I had going on there. Quickly making a run for my office, I slammed the door behind me and pulled out my phone, so I could check my appearance in the camera.
Another groan filled the air.
How did I forget to brush my hair?
How did I leave the house in these pajama pants?
Had I even showered?
Nearly falling into the office chair, I barely heard the door open, and Sawyer stormed in.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again.
“Yes,” I answered.
He didn’t seem convinced and began to look me over. “Your cheeks are flushed.”
“I just ran in here.”
His eyebrows rose. “I highly doubt you’re in such bad shape that you’d get winded from that.”
I feigned a laugh. “Clearly, you don’t know me that well.”
“Unfortunately, I do.” He stepped closer.
“What are you doing?” I asked when he rounded the corner of the desk.
“Checking your temperature.”
His hand went to my forehead, and he shook his head. “I can’t tell well enough with my hand.”
Without giving any warning, his fingers brushed back my hair, and his lips fell to the skin on my forehead.
Is he kissing me?
Before I had a moment longer to freak out, he was standing back upright.
As if nothing had ever happened.
“You’re running a fever.”
“What?” I said, somewhat bewildered. “I am not.”
“You are. You’re burning up.”
“And you could tell by what? Kissing me?” I gawked, my arms folded tightly around my chest.
He looked down at me, obviously not impressed. “I did not kiss you. I checked your temperature. Everyone knows that is the best way to do it.”
“Everyone? Everyone knows?” I stammered.
Wow, maybe I am running a fever.
“You need to get home,” he demanded.
“I’m fine,” I said, rising from my chair to prove my point.
But unfortunately, my body disagreed, and the room began to sway.
