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When he came back, Lee was carrying a glass of water and a cool, wet washcloth. A T-shirt was slung over his shoulder.
I reached for the water and took a tentative sip. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”
I swallowed hard, my throat burning despite the cool water. Lee worked quietly as he dabbed the cold washcloth against my forehead and let it drape across the back of my neck.
He pulled the shirt from his shoulder, then gestured toward the jacket I was wearing. “Can you handle that?”
I looked down to see small splatters of vomit on my jacket and the edge of my swimsuit. I quickly unzipped it. With me hunched on his bathroom floor in workout pants and a swimsuit, embarrassment flooded my system. I snatched the shirt from his hands.
“I got it. Thanks.”
His lips pressed together and he stood. “I’ll be...” He gestured toward the door.
I nodded weakly and quickly closed the door behind him.
Oh. My. Freaking. God.I just puked all over myself in front of Lee.
Hot, embarrassed tears sprang beneath my lashes. My emotions were so out of control, I couldn’t stand it. Carefully rising to my feet, I stripped off the jacket and pants. For a moment I debated pulling the T-shirt over my swimsuit, but the constricting material made my stomachache worse.
I removed my suit and pulled the large shirt over my head. Immediately I was enveloped by Lee’s masculine scent. Fresh, clean laundry and his natural musk poured over me. In the privacy of his bathroom, I gathered the material at the collar and pressed it into my nose. The rolling in my stomach quelled.
Taking a steadying breath, I looked myself over in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot, my pale face ashen, and my hair wildly out of control.
His soft knock at the door startled me, but I cracked it open. He offered a soft smile and held up a brand-new toothbrush and travel-size toothpaste. Sheepishly, I curled my fingers around them and tucked myself away in the bathroom.
When I gathered the courage, and the stomach, to exit my hiding place, Lee was sitting on the couch. Naked beneath his T-shirt, I nervously tugged at the hem. Lee’s eyes flashed to mine before dropping low, pausing at the way my nipples peaked the front of the cotton. Lower still, his eyes moved over my bare legs.
Covering his mouth with a cough, Lee popped up from the couch. “Sit tight.”
“Why are you doing this?” My eyes pleaded for him to understand what I was asking.
His sage-gray eyes pinned me in place. The deep rumble of his voice filled the apartment. “Because I want to.”
“Why?” I pressed.
Lee only scoffed lightly before moving toward the kitchen. He turned to smirk over his shoulder. “You’re my girl.”
Blood drained from my face and I felt light-headed all over again.
Words I never dared to dream out loud played on a loop over and over in my head.
You’re my girl.
You’re my girl.
You’re my girl.
It must have been the nausea. Maybe the dehydration. Or the overwhelming knowledge that I was wearing nothing but Lee’s T-shirt in the middle of his living room, but it was alltoo much.
My legs wobbled and I sank into the couch, pulling my knees to my chest and covering as much of my body as possible.
Minutes later, Lee came back with a steaming mug. “Tea. For your stomach.”
I nodded as he handed it to me and settled into the couch next to me, not allowing an inch between our bodies. Casually, as if he’d done it a thousand times before, Lee wrapped one arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. With his other arm, he found the remote and pulled up a movie.
Lee caught me staring at the side of his face, and he gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Just relax, Annette. I’ve got you.”
