Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“Will he be okay?”
Will who be okay?
“He’ll be fine.”
Who will be fine?
“I told him last night to avoid rigorous exercise. The swelling in his brain hasn’t diminished enough to raise his blood pressure to such extremes.”
“It wasn’t planned … it sort of just happened.”
A sniff, then a condescending quip. “Yes, well. Next time, don’t let him break my rules and no sex.”
Sex!
Everything came tumbling back. Shit, the last thing I remembered was the sensation of champagne bubbles building at the base of my spine. That feeling was common and known: I was about to come. My heart was racing. My thoughts were spinning. My cock was thrusting.
And then … nothing.
What the hell happened?
The pain inside my skull invaded the rest of my body. My neck throbbed with crippling aches. I felt as if squeezed with a vise, my back crippled with aches. I felt as if someone had taken an axe to my spinal column.
Cracking open my eyes, the lounge came into focus, along with the smell of cooking, stickiness of sex, and nausea of concussion.
My limbs took a while to register ownership, and I twitched as I came fully awake. A blanket over my hips tickled as it began to slide downward.
Snatching it quickly, I cupped the area of my body that’d gotten me into this mess.
Doctor Laine’s warning last night came back.
“You’ll be fine if you take it easy. Rest. No exercise or stress. Take these tablets three times a day with food and drink plenty of water.”
I’d always been stubborn; ignoring doctor’s advice was a forte of mine. Pity it’d backfired so completely.
Tilting my head on the pillow, I assessed who was in the room with me.
“Holy fuck.” I grabbed my chest, trying to keep my heart from seizing as Cleo and Doctor Laine suddenly loomed over me from the back of the couch. They had twin expressions of concern.
“Ah, good, you’re awake.” Doctor Laine bent over and pressed cool fingers against my clammy forehead. “You haven’t been out for too long, so you shouldn’t suffer anymore side effects.”
I flinched away from her touch, scowling. “How long?”
“I got here within ten minutes of receiving Mrs. Killian’s call.” She looked at Cleo. “So, what? About fifteen minutes would you say?”
Cleo nodded. “No more than that.” Her hair crackled with static, her cheeks painted with worry. “Arthur, do you remember where you are?”
At some point in my snooze, she’d slipped on a black knee-length dress. Everything about her yelled sex—from her wild hair to her pink and kiss-swollen lips. My eyes drifted to her chest; her breasts were braless, taunting me with pebbled nipples.
I clenched my jaw as my cock came back to life. “Yes. I remember where I am, who you are, and what we were doing before …”
Doctor Laine snorted. “Typical man. What did I tell you last night?”
When I didn’t respond, she stood upright and listed on her fingers. “No exercise, no stress, no sex, and under no circumstances, no strenuous activities such as heavy lifting.” Narrowing her eyes at the kitchen and discarded clothing leading toward the couch, she pursed her lips. “I think everything I told you not to do—you just did.” Planting her hands on her hips, she snapped, “Feel happier knowing you aren’t superman and should’ve listened to the woman you paid a fortune to ensure you heal?”
A grin tugged at my mouth. Who knew? The doc had a temper.
Cleo moved to sit beside me, patting my leg through the blanket she’d draped over me to protect my decency. “We won’t do it again, Doctor.”
My eyes snapped to hers. Like hell we won’t.
“No, you definitely won’t.” Doctor Laine wagged a finger in my face. “Because if you do, you might not get up again, or you might kill off more brain cells and wake up a completely different person.”
Ice water joined the rocks inside my head, freezing me solid.
Wallstreet would have a fucking fit if he knew what I’d done. The upcoming battle with my father was only half the war. The other half didn’t rely on fists and bullets but negotiation and public speaking.
I have to be personable and quick—not a fucking dim-witted buffoon.
How could I risk being such an idiot when my livelihood was on the line?
I shivered as Cleo gripped my thigh. Her fingers landed so damn close to my cock.
That’s why I played roulette with my brain. Her.
Buttercup was my Achilles’ heel—a witch who made me hot, hard, and so fucking weak.
Her green eyes flickered from me to the Doc. “Um, excuse me if I’m slow to catch up, but what do you mean? Kill more brain cells?”
I stiffened. “Nothing. She meant nothing.” Digging my hands into the soft cushions, I propelled myself upright. The room spun, but I deliberately kept the vertigo and throbbing pain from showing on my face. “Thank you, Doc. I feel ten times better and would like to get dressed.”