Page 68 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
My clit throbs. I have no doubt he’s capable of what he’s saying.
“We need to discuss this whole girlfriend thing.”
He flops back onto my bed. “I thought this was settled. Why must we rehash everything?”
“Excuse me, Thane. Contrary to what you believe, your word is not final. Certainly not in my house.”
“Our house.”
He says it with such a straight face, I laugh, but all he does is stare, intently, waiting for me to finish.
“The last I checked, it was only my name on the deed.”
“Yes, but while you were unconscious, Boone found mold and asbestos next door and kicked us out, effective immediately. Kara and Rafe are above your office. She’ll be happy to know that you’re alive. She’s been worried about you.”
Have I really been that sick?
“I’m not sure where to even start, but I know I need to pee.” I freeze when my bare foot hits the cool hardwood floor. “Have I not peed in three days?”
“No, you did.” He shrugs.
“On my own?” Oh my God. This is getting more horrifying by the minute. The slight hysteria in my voice must have clued him into my discomfort because now he’s a foot away from my face, examining me in the way that makes me believe that he could pull all my deepest secrets and desires to the surface.
“I helped you to the toilet, then turned around while you took care of business.”
Oh. My. God.
I farted on the toilet.
I remember sitting down and being so relieved that I was peeing that I let loose with him in the room.
This is not happening right now.
“What’s happening with your face?” he asks, coming closer. Too close for me to hide my embarrassment. Maybe I can pretend I don’t remember.
But then other things, other memories, make themselves known.
I told him he could get frisky with me when he was dabbing my forehead with a wet cloth.
Oh God. I threw up. I threw up all over him.
Why do I have to remember all this now with him inches from my face? Mortification is not a strong enough word.
“Are you going to be sick again?” He grabs hold of my biceps with a strong but gentle grip.
I shake my head no, too scared to open my mouth.
“I don’t understand this. Your face is too red and splotchy. I’m going to call the doctor back.”
“No,” I force past my lips. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Are you breathing, okay? Your skin is clammy again. Sit down.”
“Thane, I really have to pee.”
He frowns again, then begins to lift me into his arms. “No. No. I can walk.”
Ignoring my words, he lifts me as though I weigh nothing and carries me into the bathroom, sets me on the toilet, then spins in place.
