Page 34 of Indebted

Oh god, it sounded so dirty to hear him say it. “Yes,” I answered, because I knew that was what he wanted to hear.

He made a pleased noise in the back of his throat. His body pressed closer, his lips sealing over mine as his fingers thrust deeper. His hips moved against me, driving his hand tighter against us. The heel of his hand replaced his thumb and the pressure on my clit peaked.

I broke away to bury my head into his shoulder, muffling my cry against his coat. My whole body clenching and shaking.

“Shh,” his other arm came around me, his hand stroking my hair, keeping me tucked against him. “I got you. You were breathtaking.”

A shudder went through me, and he rode me through the aftershocks of my climax.

“See,” he said sometime later, eyes dark with desire. “I told you I’d get you to come first.”

“I told you, you should’ve brought a jacket,” Zoe admonished over the phone while I huddled under the blanket in my room, miserable.

“Being cold is not how I got sick, Zoe,” I sounded like a nasally child. My throat was killing me, and my head throbbed with every beat of my heart. “I’m pretty sure I got it from one of the other servers, she was sniffling the entire shift.”

“I still think it was from the sudden chill we got in the wind. Fall is finally coming.”

“Fall doesn’t exist in California. It’s summer and less summer here. That’s it.”

Zoe scoffed. “Whatever, I’m going to bust out my boots and scarfs and no one can stop me. By the way, I took notes from today’s class for you, did you want me to drop them off? I can bring you some soup.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I’m going to take the day and catch up on some sleep.” I’d already called the clinic.

“Are you sure you don’t want any company?”

“Thanks, Zoe, but really, I’m fine. It’s just a cold.”

After a few more goodbyes, we hung up. The Ramirez house was blissfully quiet, being sick on a weekday had its perks. No one around to yell or shout or stomp down the hallway. No slamming doors.

I took a sip of the water by my bed and winced at the pain it caused going down. The crinkled bag of crackers next to it looking less and less appetizing by the second. They’d felt like razor blades going down my throat.

But I hadn’t eaten all day.

Maybe I should’ve taken Zoe up on her offer of soup. It sounded wonderful, but I didn’t want her going out of her way for me. I’d be fine. Maybe I could crumble up some crackers into my water and make my own soggy cracker soup.

Ew.

Propping my phone up on the side of my bed, I threw on a movie and stared aimlessly at the screen.

A faint chime had my eyes snapping open, my phone screen was black. Faint voices were coming from within the house, footsteps going in numerous directions.

I’d fallen asleep.

The sound of the doorbell must’ve woken me.

I flopped onto my back, throwing an arm over my eyes.

The lack of hydration during my nap had turned my throat from a 7 to an 11 on the pain scale. It burned like fire and I couldn’t breathe through my nose.

I needed to take something. I needed to eat.

There was a packet of mac and cheese in my cupboard in the kitchen. The sound of silverware clinking kept me horizontal. I didn’t want to go out there. I didn’t even want to get up.

You can do it, I cheered myself on. This was no different than the fever I’d run two years ago. I’d had no one to take care of me then either, just me and my once but no longer cream colored, fleece blanket—a gift from my mother one birthday. I’m pretty sure it’d been a freebie from her make-up store, but at the time, I hadn’t cared.

A knock on my door startled me from my memories.

I didn’t want to talk to anyone, being sick always put me in a mood. A really shitty one.