Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 110771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
My body jerks as I feel Marco’s touch. Until this second, I didn’t realize I had closed my eyes. When I open them it’s to find Marco staring down at me in concern, the back of his fingers brushing against my forehead. “You don’t feel warm,” he utters.
His touch is whisper soft, but it sends shivers of awareness over me. I let my poor, ragged body enjoy it and close my eyes yet again.
“I don’t have a fever,” I whisper stupidly.
“I think I should take you to the doctor,” he says and when I force my eyes open again, I can see he’s frowning.
“I don’t need to. I’ll be fine in a day or so.”
“You’re not fine now.” He squats down, bringing his face close to mine, and using his hands on my mattress to steady his weight.
“You may have an infection or pneumonia. Let’s get you to my car and I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
His face is so sweet, so soft and kind that I am frozen. I can’t function. I honestly don’t remember anyone ever treating me so gently. I gasp as I feel his arms go around me. He cradles me against his body as if I was nothing more than a child. “Wh-What are you doing?” I stutter.
“I’m going to carry you to my car, baby,” he answers, his gruff voice quiet enough to make me close my eyes at its sweetness, but rough enough to dance across my nerve endings and make me ache—for entirely different reasons than the fact I’m on my period.
“I don’t need to go to the doctor,” I tell him, trying to make myself function when what I really want to do is curl into Marco and let him take me any place he wants.
Seriously.
I would follow this man to the ends of the earth and back again. I’d go through raging fires, horrific storms, you name it. I wouldn’t care what we’d face, because I’d be with him, and it’d be worth it.
I breathe him in. He reminds me of sandalwood, earthy and warm, with just a hint of something different—like, maybe, the air when it is about to rain. I close my eyes at the joy of being this close to him. It almost overwhelms me.
Why can’t he want me?
“No one wants to go to the doctor, Ena. You were also sick yesterday. You need to go and I’m here. I’m going to take you.”
Ena. I sigh. It had been so long. My mind automatically went back to my birthday two years ago.
“I like it better when you call me Ena.”
“Precisely why I won’t do it that often. I want you to appreciate the times it happens.”
He was right. It’s been so long that when he called me Ena, I didn’t only appreciate it, I immediately turned to mush.
He started walking again and I brought my hand up around his bicep and pressed.
“No, stop.”
“Baby—”
“I’m not sick. I don’t have a fever. I’m just…”
“Just what?” he prompted when I couldn’t figure out how to explain. The last thing I want to do is talk to Marco—the man I’ve been having dreams about for more years than I should have. Marco was my image on what a real man should be-and that was before I should have even been thinking about men at all.
“I’m not sick like that. I’m cramping,” I compromise, trying to ignore the heat that floods my face. I avoid his eyes and stare at his beard instead. I find myself really, really wanting to reach out and touch it. I don’t do that.
But, God, I want to.
“That’s even more reason to go. You could have food poisoning.”
I shake my head no, mentally cursing my luck because Marco doesn’t catch on. “It’s not food poisoning.”
“Did you get a medical degree in the two years that we’ve been apart?” he asks, and I finally force myself to look in his eyes. They’re sparkling. Damn.
“No. But I know what this is.”
He frowns. “There’s no way you can know that, Ena.”
“I can. It happens every month.”
He stares down at me, looking clueless. I close my eyes. Men really can be dense. I have no idea why I need to be discussing this with a man that I want for my own—the same man who has ignored me since our engagement. Yet, here I am, and I guess it’s because I’m an idiot. Although, at this point, I figure if I don’t clue him in, I will find myself at the hospital emergency care and I’m really not up to that.
“Helen—”
“I’m on my period, Marco.”
“You’re on…”
“And just to say, moving around makes it worse, so if you could put me back down on the bed, it’d be appreciated.”
I’m kind of lying. The heat of Marco’s body against mine is helping the cramps and I’m definitely not chilling now.