Page 77 of Temptation

“Food poisoning sucks,” I croaked as she returned, holding out a bottle to me. “No. I can’t.”

“What about something with electrolytes?”

Even the mere suggestion made me nauseous. “How’s the game going?”

She laughed. “You want to know about the game? Now?”

“Yes.” I crawled toward the door to the bathroom, hoping to hear about the plays. The score. “I need a distraction.”

“Let’s get you back on the couch,” she said. “I’ll get you a trash can.”

I grunted. I could barely lift my head, let alone comprehend the idea of going as far as the couch. So, she relented and told me about the plays.

I must have fallen asleep in the bathroom, because the next thing I knew, someone was lifting me from the floor. Knox, judging from the warm and summer scent of his cologne that surrounded me as he cradled me in his arms.

“Knox?” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

My body was so weak. My limbs exhausted. And the nausea that had been kept at bay was resurfacing once more.

“What time is it?” I murmured, too exhausted to even open my eyes. “Where’s Emmy?”

I could hear the TV in the distance, an announcer talking about the postgame highlights.No.I tried to concentrate on what he was saying. If I wasn’t mistaken, the game was still going.

“She’s asleep on the couch,” Knox said. “I’m glad she called me.”

“But…but…” I tried to make sense of everything as he carried me up the stairs.

“Shh,mi cielo. I’ve got you.” He placed me gently on the bed.

He smoothed his hand down my hair, and it felt so good. The way he stroked me. Cared for me.

“But you’re supposed to be in San Jose. For the game.”

He caressed my cheek. “You’re more important.”

I forced my eyes open, my throat aching from earlier. I wasn’t even sure how to respond to that statement. For Knox to say I was more important than soccer. Than his legacy and his team…

This was more than him giving me a Range Rover or diamonds or even paying my mom’s medical expenses. Knox had given up something that was more limited and precious than all the money in his bank account—his time. And he’d done it to be with me.

“Knox,” I chided, loving that he’d done that for me, yet hating it at the same time.

“Kendall,” he said, mimicking my tone.

He shifted, wrapping his other arm around me. As always, I slid into place. A perfect fit. As if we’d been made for each other.

“What’s the point of having a private jet if I can’t do what I want? And what I want…” He pulled me closer, gently. As if he knew my body—or perhaps my heart—was fragile at the moment. “…is to be with you.”

I didn’t want to spoil the moment, but the nausea was rising again. So I kicked off the covers and rushed to the bathroom. When I looked up after flushing the toilet, Knox was there. Watching me as he leaned against the doorframe, the skin beside his eyes wrinkled with concern.

I groaned and pulled my legs to my chest, debating which was worse—the intense stomach cramps or the fact that he was seeing me like this.

He turned on the sink. A moment later, he crouched beside me. He brushed my hair aside and then placed a cool washcloth on the back of my neck. His movements were gentle, reverent, despite the fact that he’d just watched me dry heave over the toilet.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my nose stinging as I tried not to show just how touched I was by his concern. By his care.

“Of course. Have you had anything to eat or drink?”

I shuddered at the mere mention of food. “Not since dinner with Emmy.”

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