Contingency Plan (Blackbridge Security #3) - Marie James Page 0,29
and pulls his shirt over the top of his head.
He’s given his permission, but I still feel like I’m violating him in some way when the washcloth traces down his sternum. Abdominal muscles bunch and jump under the attention, and it’s impossible to tell if it’s to get more from me or if they’re trying to get away.
I lick at my own lips, uncaring of the reason as I continue to wipe away the fever and salt from his skin. This entire situation is weird, a surreal reenactment of the dreams my subconscious self has had the last couple of days. It leaves me feeling dangerous and out of control, two things I’ve learned are triggers for bad behavior.
He arches toward my hand, his hip rolling forward in the most tantalizing way, and that’s my cue for distance.
“Get some more sleep,” I tell him, standing abruptly and walking out of the room.
I don’t look over my shoulder to check on him one last time before leaving the room. He’s through the worst part of his illness, and the entire thing has left me feeling raw and exposed. I liked the cuddling too much. I liked the things he whispered too much. I like the idea of him being mine too much.
All of that leaves me vulnerable and open for more rejection, more disappointment, and I’m way too tired to deal with any of that right now.
Chapter 11
Flynn
I’ve been shot three times wearing a bulletproof vest, the bullets leaving fist-sized bruises on my torso, and even that didn’t feel as bad as I feel when I wake up.
I’m met with silence in an unfamiliar room, disoriented like the single time I got wasted in college. I know I’ve been sick. I know Remington took care of me even though she had no responsibility to do so. I know I’ve been in and out of consciousness for days. I know I scared her away when all she was trying to do was help me.
I’m such an idiot for being unable to control my reaction to her hand running that cloth over my body. Even sick, I was aroused. Even feeling like I’d been run over several times, I would’ve given it the old college try to get her under me. I offended her but was too out of it to follow her and apologize.
She’s not in bed beside me, and I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep. Knowing her, she took off the second she walked out of here.
With sore, aching muscles, I climb out of the bed, taking care of business in the bathroom. The shower calls to me, but the need to find her looms heavier.
I expect to find an empty suite as I walk through the rooms slowly, but there on the couch, curled up in a tiny ball is the woman I thought for sure had bolted. I want to go to her, to scoop her up and carry her back to the bed, but that would be a violation. She promised me she wouldn’t leave, and even though she kept that promise, it’s clear she also wants distance.
Hating that I’ll have to put dirty clothes back on but knowing I’m absolutely disgusting; I head back to the bathroom. I swallow thick emotions when I see a clean pile of clothing on the towels in the linen closet. They’re my clothes, the familiar lounge pants and t-shirt perfectly worn and comfortable, meaning she had to have either left the suite or had them delivered. A small bag of cosmetics and another pile of fresh laundry is beside mine, and it makes me doubt all the certainties that Remington Blair is a selfish, immature person, only thinking of herself.
She could’ve left. She could’ve had a nurse come in and care of me. She could’ve called Blackbridge like I insisted so there was someone I knew here, but she didn’t.
She stayed close, medicated me, made sure I drank fluids no matter how many times I complained about it.
She. Stayed.
The woman known for running at every turn stuck by my side when I was too sick to even get out of the bed. The things I whispered to her were a hundred percent true. She’s caring, compassionate, and gorgeous, deserving of the attention she seeks from her parents.
“She’s got all of my attention,” I grumble as I turn the shower dials, the water in this expensive hotel instantly coming out hot.