I jumped out of bed, refused to acknowledge how I staggered a little, and all but charged to the bathroom. Having just enough sense to tug off my tee and shorts, I stepped into the shower, throwing on the tap as I entered.
Cool water beat down at me. I gasped, taking a shuddering breath. I closed my eyes, trying not to fall down the well of what-ifs, too terrified that by doing so, my panicked thoughts would come true.
The sound of the shower door opening reached me. I jerked open my eyes, gaze immediately landing on Sutton’s face. His smile slipped, worry bleeding into his expression.
Without saying a word, he stripped, stepped into my space, and wrapped me up in his arms. I went willingly, indulging in his strength, his calm, and mumbling, “Tag, I’m it.”
His low snort was an attempt at amusement, but neither of us believed it. Sutton held me tightly, saying, “I’m happy to take one for the team and for you to pass the tag back.”
Gratitude for this man flowed over me, pulling a smile from where it was buried below my self-pity. I dotted a kiss on his neck and angled away to see his face. After reading my expression, his knotted brows eased a little.
“I don’t mind holding the mantle for a while. Just as long as we take it in turns with hurting.”
Immediately, concern flooded his features. “Hurting as in…?”
I rolled my eyes at myself, forcing out a chuckle. “Nothing. Just my head. I’m getting tired of migraines and dizziness, is all.” While we’d attempted to tease each other, with Sutton’s feelings still unresolved, there was no way I was adding to his burden. He already worried about my concussion. If I laid another load on his shoulders about my fear of not healing right and it impacting my career…. No way was I sharing my bullshit fears.
I’d be fine. It had only been a few weeks, which meant that I needed to suck it up and just take each day as it came, pushing myself a little at a time.
I totally had this.
“I’m feeling much better today,” I offered. Maybe it was because I was telling the truth that he finally relaxed in my hold this time.
“That’s great,” he responded. I was grateful he didn’t question me, asking if I was sure. When people did that, it irritated the heck out of me. Though I was guilty of pushing myself on more than one occasion. “I was worried. You missed dinner last night.”
My brows shot high. I hadn’t even bothered looking at the time before stumbling into the shower. Just then, my stomach grumbled, obviously hearing the mention of food and letting me know it needed filling.
“No wonder my stomach’s caving in.”
Strong fingers brushed against my stomach. Goose bumps rose, and my stomach clenched at Sutton’s touch. “I can’t feel any hollowness there.”
I simply nodded, tugging my bottom lip into my mouth and not so subtly encouraging him to keep touching with a thrust of my hips. “Perhaps you need to take a better look.” I quirked my brow at him in challenge, thinking back to the spectacular blow job we’d ended with our first night here.
Fuck, was that really only a couple of nights ago?
Sutton trailed his fingers up my stomach, toward my chest, totally in the wrong direction. When my stomach growled, loud enough that it almost shook the shower walls, he paused, wide-eyed and chuckling.
“You need food.”
“I need my cock in your mouth.”
He smirked, but rather than dropping to his knees, he kissed me gently and stepped away, opening the cubicle door.
“Seriously?” I groaned, attempting a sulky pout that simply had him laughing.
“Yep. Food. If you wait any longer, your migraine will come back.” He passed me a towel and started drying off.
“You know you’re an asshole when you’re right,” I grumbled, toweling myself down.
“Wow, so you’re saying I spend 99.9 percent of my time being an asshole?” He raised both brows and gave me an amused, pointed look.
“As if.”
“Uh-huh.”
I flicked the towel at his perfect ass when he turned to leave. He jumped and grunted, flipped me off, and headed to get dressed.
My traitorous stomach doubled its efforts.Fine, I thought. When my stomach was cock blocking me, I reluctantly listened.
