Page 79 of Wood You Rather?

“Mm-hmm.”

With slow, deliberate steps and a warm, firm grip, he carried me down the hallway to the other side of the house. Even in my impaired state, I couldn’t help but notice how delicately he held me. How careful he was not to jostle me.

I buried my head against his chest, channeling all my focus into breathing.

The last time I was in his room, we were naked and fucking each other senseless. It had only been a few days since then, but in my current state, it felt like it had been years.

He eased me onto his king-size bed, and I sank into an ocean of pillows and a fluffy duvet.

I peeled one eye open, trying to make sense of my surroundings. “Do you really make your bed every day?”

“Of course. I’m not an animal.”

“Figures.”

“Are you comfortable? Can I get you clothes?”

“Let me get off these jeans. They’re pretty tight.” I groaned as I tried to wiggle them over my hips.

“Here,” he said. “Let me.”

His fingertips grazed my hips as he slid the denim over them. He brushed against the soft skin at my thighs, then continued to gently ease them down my legs. Goose bumps erupted on my exposed skin. Regardless of the excruciating pain I was in, I was fixated on every brush of his fingertips and how good it felt to have his warm, strong body so close to me.

I was having sex flashbacks in the middle of a massive migraine. God. Could orgasms have medicinal properties? Why were we not conducting double-blind placebo-controlled studies on that?

“Do you want a T-shirt?”

I didn’t move or respond. Now that my legs were free, all I could do was curl up tighter.

“Here,” he said. “It’s really soft.”

Slowly, I propped myself up on one arm. “Help me?”

“Okay.” He guided me to a sitting position and lifted my sweater over my head, leaving me in only a black bra. And then he helped me put on the softest T-shirt I’d ever felt.

With an arm on my shoulder and one behind my back, he eased me back onto the mattress. “I’m going to go find your medicine,” he whispered, pulling the fluffy duvet up to my chin. “I’ll be right back.”

I wasn’t sure how long he was gone, but eventually, he returned and softly closed the door behind him.

“Parker,” he whispered. “I found this box. It says ergotamine.”

“That’s it,” I said, reaching out. “Pop one out. I dissolve it under my tongue.”

He obeyed, and I put it in my mouth, praying for relief.

“I googled migraine treatment. Does a cold compress on your neck help?”

I blinked up at him. His face was marred by a worried frown.

“I’ll try it,” I said, rolling over onto my stomach. He brushed my hair out of the way and placed the cold cloth on the back of my neck. It stung my skin a bit, but I settled into the softness of the bed and let the cool sensation wash over me.

“I brought water, Gatorade, and crackers. I’ll leave them on the nightstand. What else can I get you?”

“Nothing,” I said, luxuriating in his pillows. When I got home to Portland, I’d have to invest a portion of the profits from this job in really fancy pillows. I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from my addiction to the luxurious bedding in this house. “Just darkness and silence.”

I woke up some time later, still in pain but grateful I had at least been able to sleep, which was rare. As I regained consciousness, I felt his presence nearby.

Through the darkness, I spotted him sitting on the other side of the room, his phone in his hand.

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