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Sofia
I feltit before I could even open my eyes. That sick, dizzy sensation where the world wouldn’t stop spinning and vomit was already climbing up my throat.
With a whimper, I turned for the edge of the bed, knowing I wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom in time, because it was coming and I couldn’t stop it.
“Dragotsennyy!” Zak’s concerned voice only made me whine again. Vomiting made a person vulnerable, and I didn’t want him to see me so weak. But the vomit wouldn’t stop, and all I could do was hold on to the side of the mattress as I puked until I was dry heaving.
Behind me, my boyfriend gathered my hair, but it was already too late. I could feel the sticky sickness gluing strands to my cheek, mixed in with the dinner I’d eaten the night before. Through the spasms, I tried to remember how much I’d drunk when we’d gone out to one of my family’s clubs, but I hadn’t even had a glass of champagne.
Which meant this wasn’t a hangover.
When it was over and I could breathe without the need to hurl, I collapsed onto the bed, half my head and one arm hanging over the side. Vaguely, I heard feet hit the hardwood floor, and I was thankful for that reminder because it would have been a hundred times more embarrassing if someone had to clean my mess out of a carpet.
Arms that had spent the last five weeks holding me every night, keeping me warm and safe as I fell asleep, lifted me from our bed. I hid my face in his neck as he carried me into the bathroom.
“I’m sorry.” My voice was hoarse from the burn of the vomit, and I realized before he even sat me on the side of the bathtub that by pressing my face into his neck, I’d smeared my sickness all over his shoulder and chest.
He crouched down in front of me, concern and love shining so bright in his golden eyes that tears filled my own. “Are you well enough now to shower, or would you rather I run you a bath?”
“Shower,” I was quick to answer.
Zak tucked the strands of hair sticking to my face behind my ear, making me grimace in disgust at myself. But he didn’t seem the least bit fazed as he stroked his thumb over my jaw before straightening so he could get the shower ready. Once the water was heated to his satisfaction, he began to strip me of the T-shirt I’d slipped into after we’d made love the night before, leaving me sitting there completely naked.
Shakily, I got to my feet, and to my surprise, he pulled off his boxers and guided me into the huge shower stall. With firm yet gentle hands, he washed the puke from my hair then soaped the rest of my body. By the time we were both clean, my stomach had stopped roiling, but I felt weaker than a newborn kitten.
Seeming to understand that, he took his time drying my body and hair with a towel before carrying me back to the bed. His staff had already been in to clean up my mess and change the bedding. I was glad, because I wasn’t sure how I would have handled the sight and scent of my stomach contents on the floor again.
Leaving me long enough to grab fresh clothes for the both of us, Zak returned with another one of his T-shirts for me, already dressed in a pair of black sweatpants. Despite the heartburn still sitting in the back of my throat and heating my chest, I couldn’t help licking my lips at the sight of the shirtless man before me.
Every muscle in his arms, chest, and abdomen was sharp-edged and hard as stone. The ink that covered them was sexy, but none more so than my name written in his native language right over his heart. It was a new addition to the artwork-covered canvas that was his body. The tattoo was only a few days old, still slightly red around the edges and raised in a few spots. Each time I saw it, the ache that never seemed to be fully satisfied unless he was deep inside me began to throb.
“How are you feeling now,lyubimaya?” he asked, the concern darkening his eyes returning my focus—and embarrassment—to what had happened less than half an hour before.
“I have mad heartburn,” I admitted. “But my stomach has stopped tossing, and the dizziness has passed.”
His golden eyes searched my face for a long moment before he reached for his phone and typed a quick message. I frowned as I watched his fingers move swiftly over the screen. Once he was done, a reply popped up within seconds, but I couldn’t read either message.
“One of my men will get you something to help with the heartburn,” he murmured softly. Dropping a kiss on top of my damp head, he took a step back. “Give me ten minutes to get shaved, and then I’ll dry your hair.”
“You don’t have to,” I protested, but he shot me a stern look, and I pressed my lips together, fighting a smile.
Before Zak, I’d never been interested in the guys who got all possessive and commanding. I wasn’t looking for someone who wanted to dominate me. But that wasn’t Zak at all. He didn’t want to dominate me or make me submit to him. All he wanted was to care for me, make sure I was safe and happy.
In the five weeks we’d been together, I’d learned that pretty fast. I liked it when he got all growly over my well-being.
Not surprisingly, I’d fallen for him. And even though neither of us had said the words aloud, we both knew how we felt for each other. Zak couldn’t keep the stars out of his eyes when he looked at me. The gentle way he kissed me good night, the hungry way he woke me up, as if he’d missed me even in his sleep.
My mother was smug as hell. Neither of my parents was surprised when I’d basically moved in with Zak the day after the charity event. Every time Mom saw either of us, she got this gleam in her eye, one that shouted, “I told you so!” I was just waiting for her to start hinting about us getting married.
Something I was no longer opposed to. Because with Zak, I’d found that I was a different person—a better person. I wanted to make him proud to be with me, not cringe at the spoiled bitch I’d been in the past.
Thirty minutes later, I sat cross-legged in the middle of our bed with the covers tucked in around me. My hair was dry, and Zak was busy putting away the blow-dryer and all the different sprays that were required when a girl dried her hair. I loved that he’d watched me do it so many times that he was aware of what was needed so my hair wasn’t damaged from the heat.
A sharp tap on the door had me shifting, but Zak growled at me to stay put as he jogged across our bedroom and opened the door just wide enough to take the bag from one of his men. With a curt thank you, he shut it and began walking toward me, already pulling out items.
The bottle of antacids was first, and he uncapped it before shaking out two and offering me the minty discs. While I chewed, he turned the bag upside down and poured the rest of the contents onto the end of the bed.
When I caught sight of the boxes, my mouth dropped open with the half-chewed antacids still on my tongue.
