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She laughed, though her laughter soon turned into a pitiful cough. “How can you feed me an apple?” she asked, her voice scratchier—and sexier—than normal.
“Allow me to demonstrate.” Without reaching for her apple, he leaned in and lifted his to her mouth, raising his brows when she shot him a questioning glance. “Now you take a bite.”
“I have germs.”
“I love Sara germs,” he said, nudging her chin with the apple.
Shaking her head, she grinned. “Fine. Don’t cry to me when you get sick too.” She took a quick bite and drew back, lapping up the droplets of juice that slipped over her full lips. “Dammit, I can barely taste it.”
“You didn’t get enough.” He bit in and turned his head, lowering his face to hers. Her eyes widened. “Open up,” he murmured, slanting his mouth over hers before she had time to argue.
Her lips parted, and he tasted a hint of cherry cough syrup before their tongues tangled in the briefest, hottest kiss of his life. She accepted the apple and swallowed, her tongue retreating from his too fast. He chased after it, licking the inside of her mouth with tender strokes designed to cause her to relax. Again her tongue slid against his, almost as if she were collecting the last of the juice. Then she pushed him away, gently but firmly.
“I’m sick,” she reminded him, her warm breath puffing against his cheek.
“So you keep reminding me.” He returned to his apple, hiding his smile at the sound of her forced breathing. Unaffected? Not hardly. “Want more?”
“Of the apple or you?”
“Whichever.” His gaze roamed her face. “A minute ago you looked cold. Now you look too warm. Wonder how that happened?”
“Brad,” she said, her tone weak and soft. “I can’t deal with you when I’m loopy on cold meds.”
“You could try going with it.”
“Going with what?”
“Letting me take care of you.” And he didn’t just mean by offering her tissues. He set aside the apple and motioned for her to move. “Shove over.”
“You want to get in bed with me?”
“Thought that was obvious.” She rolled her eyes but, shockingly, she didn’t protest. She shifted onto her side as he settled in and turned his cheek toward hers on the pillow. “There. That’s not too scary, is it?”
“I’m not scared of you.” Her soft scoff contrasted with the wary expression she wore as she worried her lower lip between her teeth. “Much.”
“Finally she tells the truth.” He traced his fingertip over her temple. “I’m almost thirty.”
She smiled, but her eyes remained serious. “Thanks for the update.”
He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, driven to keep touching her until he somehow found a way through the stubborn shell guarding her heart. And all the rest of her. “I come with good references.”
“Oh yeah? Who?”
“Not my ex, that’s for sure. But I have a business. I’m financially solvent, responsible, good with birds,” he added when Telly, Sara’s conure, sent out a series of chirps from his cage in the corner of the room. “I’m also excellent with my hands.”
She made a clucking noise and looked at him from under her thick fringe of lashes. “As if you’d say otherwise.”
“I’m a mechanic. Making things hum is my specialty.”
“Right.” She yawned and snuggled into the pillows, still watching him through hazy eyes. “Are you going to come to the fundraiser with me?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On if you admit you really want me to come.” It was a gamble, one he hoped paid off.
She whisked her tongue along her upper lip. “I’m too tired to want anyone to come. Even me.”
