Contingency Plan (Blackbridge Security #3) - Marie James Page 0,27

but then another groan rumbles from his throat.

“What’s wrong?”

Feeling like a fool for not listening to the doctor, I take a step back to give him room.

“Don’t sit up,” I say as he grunts loudly while raising his upper body. “Let me help you.”

He seems resigned to do it anyway, so I offer assistance as best I can.

“Can’t help with this.”

It’s honestly an asshole thing to say because I’ve been here every damn second taking care of him.

“Need to piss.”

Oh. Yeah, I can’t really help with that.

“At least let me help you to the bathroom door.”

Even with the hunch of his back, I hiss under the weight of him as he leans on me once he’s standing. The man is solid muscle.

“I got it,” he insists, pulling away from me and crossing the room slowly on his own. He turns toward the room I’ve deemed mine and I don’t open my mouth to tell him differently.

Ignoring the bite of rejection, I take the opportunity to pull back the blankets on the bed. He’s not even close to a hundred percent, but I know the bed will be more comfortable for the rest of his recovery.

I’m standing in the doorway to the room when he reemerges.

“I need a shower, but—”

“You’ll end up drowning if you attempt that alone,” I finish, walking toward him just in case he needs me.

“Are you offering to help?” There’s a smile in his voice even though his face is pained from walking.

Heat fills my cheeks because his joke makes me think back to the way he reached for me when we first arrived, the way he called me baby. I know now that he was sick and probably delirious, but it still made tingles rush over my body.

“If you need help, I’ll help you.” There, that sounded very diplomatic. “I’ll even wash your back for you.”

There’s no way I’d survive seeing this man naked with soap bubbles drifting down his tanned skin, but I’m willing to throw myself on the sword if he really wants it.

“God, Remi,” he groans, finally making it to the bed and sitting down with a huff. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

Considering it a rhetorical question, I assist in lifting his legs and getting them under the blankets instead of teasing him. The man is sick, and I can’t seem to keep my mind out of the damn gutter. Besides, there’s very little chance he’s actually serious or would consider me in that sort of way. I’m delusional, but the first step is to recognize the problem, right?

His eyes flutter closed, eyelashes sexy enough for the runway brushing his cheeks, and like a fool, I stand there and keep watching him. When he winces again in pain, I remember the alarm went off and I didn’t give him meds. Before counting out the dose the doctor instructed me to give him, I use the temporal thermometer I had delivered.

“You’re still running fever, but it’s not as high as it has been.”

“How long?”

“A hundred and one.”

“No.” He shakes his head back and forth. “How long have I been out?”

“It’s Friday morning.”

His eyes snap open, the bright blue a shocking contrast to the pallor of his face.

“Wednesday? Who did Blackbridge send?”

I shake my head. “No one. You were too sick to call.”

“You didn’t leave.”

“I promised I’d stay.”

His mouth opens as if he’s going to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead of focusing on his shock, I gather the meds and hold that and a bottle of Pedialyte for him to take.

“That shit’s for babies,” he grumbles, but he takes the pills and a small sip of the offensive drink.

“And here I thought you were acting like a badass,” I tease.

Jesus. I nearly groan out loud when his tongue snakes out to catch a drop of the grape flavored liquid from his bottom lip. I replace the cap on the bottle and turn away. He’s feeling better, and that means I don’t have to stay right on top of him while he sleeps.

“Stay,” he says, mustering enough strength to encircle my wrist before I can step away. “You look exhausted, too.”

I’m dead tired, but admitting so seems like complaining, so I just nod, walking around the bed to climb in on the other side.

I’m torn between being grateful the bed is a California king and hating the distance it forces between us. I chastise myself internally for making this more than it actually is. He’s made it perfectly clear he isn’t interested in