Devoured - Cathryn Fox Page 0,40
is our dinner reservation?”
He puts his mouth close to my ear. “The only thing I’m hungry for is you.”
A thrill goes through me. “What a coincidence, because the only thing I want to put in my mouth is you.”
His breathing changes. “Jesus, girl. Keep that up and I’ll bend you over this desk.” He inches back and his brow furrows.
“What?” I ask.
“Are you okay? You actually look a bit pale.” He touches my forehead. “No fever, but you’re kind of cold and clammy.”
“I’m always cold,” I say, brushing it off, but he’s right, I’m not actually feeling great.
“Not like this, Peyton.”
“My stomach is a little funny, actually,” I say. “It just started. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”
“Let’s get you home.”
Home.
I like the idea of Roman, me and...home. I’ve always lived in houses, never homes, and I’d be wise not to think this time is any different. When he leaves, I leave the villa. I’ll have to find something permanent for myself, something I can afford.
He leads me outside, and I wince as the sun shines down on me, the contents in my stomach churning. Roman keeps casting me quick glances, like he’s worried I’m going to go down for the count. I’m a little worried about that, too.
I pick up the pace and he hurries along with me. By the time we reach the villa, I’m in a full-blown sweat and whatever is in my stomach wants out.
“Roman,” I say, and grab his sleeve. “I’m not feeling good.”
He scoops me up and hurries upstairs to the bathroom. “Are you going to vomit?”
“No.” Oh God, this is so embarrassing. “Please leave.”
“Peyton, I don’t want to leave you.” He stands over me as I grip my stomach. “I think you need my help.”
“Roman, please, you need to leave right now,” I blurt out, never more embarrassed in my life. “Trust me on this.”
He hesitates, but the pleading look in my eyes must have convinced him. He steps into the smaller bedroom and closes the door behind him.
“Go downstairs,” I yell, mortified. “I need to die in peace.”
“Call out if you need me,” he says as I hurry out of my clothes and drop down onto the commode, my entire life flashing before my eyes. “This cannot be happening,” I cry as pain rips across my abdomen.
Sounds of Roman moving about in the kitchen, and possibly cooking something, reach my ears, although the thoughts of food turn my stomach even more.
After a long while, I wash up and Roman raps on the door. “You okay in there?”
“I’m going to our bed to die,” I say.
“Can I come help?”
“Yeah,” I say. I swallow against a dry throat as my weak legs carry me to the bed Roman and I have been sharing for the past week.
I collapse onto the mattress, and Roman enters from the hall. The concern in his eyes wraps around me like a blanket. He sits down next to me and pulls the cover over my now-freezing body.
“Do you think it’s the flu?”
“I don’t know. I have severe pains in my stomach.”
“Maybe it was something you ate.”
I run through everything I put in my stomach. “We had the same big breakfast, and you’re not sick.”
“What about lunch?”
“I was so full from breakfast, I skipped lunch.”
“Same.” He presses his hand to my forehead. “Do you think you can drink something?”
“Yeah, I’m really thirsty.”
“I’ll be right back.” I close my eyes, and a minute later Roman is back with a tall glass of ice water.
“Can you sit up a bit?” He helps me up and I sip the water, praying to God it doesn’t go through me and thinking it will, judging by the way my stomach is protesting.
“It came on so fast,” I say.
He helps me lie back down and lightly brushes my hair from my face. “Are you tired?”
“A little bit.”
“Do you want me to leave you to sleep?”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I reach out and take his hand. “Do you think you could stay for a minute?”
“Of course.”
“Tell me about your day,” I say, as if we’re an old married couple sharing stories like it’s the most natural thing in the world for us to be doing.
“I did some work and talked to Cason. He called to see how things were going.”
“I’ve been meaning to call him.” I swallow as another wave of pain rips across my abdomen.
“I told him things were going good.”
I groan. “They were. Right up until today. I mean they still are but...ugh,