by C. J. Lake
“Nope—oh, wait,” Jamie said, sitting up more, “I can’t believe I forgot. One of my sisters got me a first aid kit as a housewarming gift.”
“Smart girl,” Sky said approvingly. “Now where is it?”
“Bathroom cabinet,” he mumbled, slumping against a pillow.
When Sky returned with the thermometer, she told Jamie, “I think you should be in bed.”
“Nonsense,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. “What’s the difference if I die here or in bed?”
Sky had to laugh at that. “You are not going to die. Trust me, okay?” Jamie eyed her as she took a seat alongside him on the sofa. “I’ve seen much worse than this,” Sky promised.
“I thought you said you never get sick,” he countered.
“I don’t. But Elle does. She’s been sick lots of times.”
“And do you take care of her, too?” Jamie asked. The timbre of his voice was low and rough—because of his scratchy throat—but there was something intimate about it, too.
“Hold still,” Sky ordered gently, and brushed some locks of Jamie’s hair back so she could set the digital thermometer on his temple. She wished she could continue toying with his hair, running her fingers through it…but of course she resisted that urge, and let her hand fall to the side, as she kept the thermometer securely in place. “I just have to hold this for ten seconds,” she told him, feeling her pulse quicken, trying not to focus on how close they were. On the sofa, sitting up against Jamie, who was reclining, meant that Sky’s hip was grazing his stomach, and their mouths were a mere six inches apart. It wouldn’t take much to entwine their arms, to lie down with him, for him to roll on top of her…
“You never answered my question,” Jamie murmured.
“What?”
“Do you take care of Elle, too?”
It’s hardly the same. “Of course.”
He smiled weakly as the thermometer beeped. “That’s sweet,” he remarked.
“And here you didn’t know I was sweet,” she said with a wry smile.
“Actually, I did know,” Jamie said simply. When her eyes landed on his, their gazes held.
Feeling flustered, Sky cleared her throat and shifted her gaze to the thermometer screen. “104.1,” she said. “Yeah, that’s not good.”
“Save yourself,” Jamie advised, slumping his face against the pillow.
“Bed,” Sky said, coming to her feet and taking his hand at the same time. “C’mon, you need to be in bed. This couch is too narrow. You’ll end up falling on the floor.” He didn’t argue; maybe he agreed or maybe he simply didn’t have the energy. Taking Sky’s hand, he let her lead him to his bed. “Hang on,” she said, leaning over to straighten out the sheets a little so he wouldn’t be all twisted up. “Okay, get in,” she told him, stepping aside, and he complied.
“Now, do you have any food here?” she asked, as she pulled up the comforter.
He groaned at that. “Uch, I can’t eat anything.”
Nodding, Sky said, “You should at least have some water.” With that, she went to the kitchen, opened cabinets until she found a large cup and filled it with water. When she returned, Jamie was taking off his glasses and setting them on the shelf above his headboard. “All right, here you go,” Sky said, setting the cup down on the narrow table beside the bed, and attempted to fluff Jamie’s pillow one more time as he got comfortable. “Unfortunately I have to go to work now. Do you have an extra key?”
He looked confused for a second and said, “Yeah, why?”
“Just in case you’re knocked out when I come back,” she explained. Before Jamie could tell her not to bother, Sky added sarcastically, “Hey, I have to make sure you’re not dead, at least. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”
“Good point.” He raised an arm, pointing toward the living room. “My will is in the—” Abruptly, his arm fell flat on the bed. “Never mind, I just remembered that I don’t have a will.”
With a soft laugh, Sky said, “You’re going to be fine. I’ll check on you when I get out of work.”
“The key’s in the top drawer,” Jamie told her, nodding toward his bedside table.
Once she pocketed it, Sky gave him a warm smile. “Feel better, okay? Drink your water. Get some rest. I’ll be back soon.”
“You don’t have to,” Jamie said. “But hurry.”
Chapter 18
As promised, Sky returned later that day, passing on the trip to the outlets. Instead she had let Elle and Brett borrow her car so they could go themselves. Her only stop was Grendel’s before going to see Jamie.
Now, after knocking a few times. Sky pulled out the spare key. Even though Jamie had implicitly given her permission to let herself in, somehow using his key felt like a bold, almost brazen thing to do. Balancing the takeout bags in one hand, she turned the lock and pushed the door open—and heard deep breathing before she’d even stepped inside.
Smiling she looked over at his bed and saw Jamie sprawled out on his back, asleep. Even from across the apartment, she could see the heavy rising and falling of his chest. Once she set the takeout bags down on his kitchen table and threw her jacket over one of the chairs, she went to get a closer look.
The sweatshirts thrown onto the floor and the comforter shoved all the way to the bottom of the bed were good signs. Jamie’s tee shirt appeared damp with sweat, as did the edges of his hair, and some color had returned to his face, replacing that ghostly-pale. She couldn’t help smiling down at him. He was just so ridiculously adorable.
While he slept, Sky straightened up a little, gathering the dirty clothes from the floor and putting them in the hamper, and clearing a crushed, empty tissue box off Jamie’s desk. That was when she noticed a spiral sketchpad on the desk, folded open to a pencil drawing of a forest.
Curiously, Sky lifted the notebook. She hesitated for a moment before flipping the pages. More pencil sketches, most of them buildings and skylines, one of Boston Common—without the people—and several half-completed drawings that had a careless X swiped through them. Wow, Jamie drew all these? she thought, impressed. She didn’t know he had an artistic side; even if sketching was just a sometimes-hobby, it was still another layer to him. And lately she’d become a little obsessed with his layers—with wanting to know him better, with wanting to get closer, even if it scared her.
As she set the sketchpad back down on the desk, she noticed this month’s issue of Men’s Life I.Q. magazine. Casually, she picked it up and flipped through it—only to discover a page folded down. When she saw the article that Jamie had bookmarked, she let out a soft gasp. Then looked over her shoulder at him. Thankfully, he was still sleeping. But now Sky was particularly focused on his mouth.
The article was entitled: How to Rock Her World (By Going Down…) and it opened like this: “So you think you’re already the master of oral sex? Well, you may be pretty awesome at it (or you may not!), but read these three simple tricks if you want to blow your oral skills up, and have your girl literally begging for more…”
Though she didn’t have tons of experience with oral sex, Sky couldn’t help skimming the rest of the article, and envisioning Jamie the whole time. The fact that he’d even marked this article turned her on. Just knowing he wanted to go down (and actually cared about technique) was extremely sexy.
Did he want to do this with her?
Entranced, Sky re-read that first sentence, wondering: did Jamie consider himself a “master of oral sex”? Biting her lip, Sky pondered what it would be like with him. Was he passionate? Skilled? Giving? Would he have her “literally begging for more”? A little breathlessly, she sighed. Probably.
Just then Jamie turned over in bed, startling her. She guiltily dropped the magazine back on the desk, which was ridiculous since it was only a magazine, not a diary. And he was still sleeping anyway, now on his stomach.
Unable to help herself, Sky came up to Jamie’s bedside, wanting to be closer to him. Still thinking about that article, she found her
eyes zoning in on Jamie’s mouth, then hands… then back up to his mouth again. Very gently, she reached over to brush an errant lock of his hair from his temple.
When he shifted, she hastily withdrew her arm. Then Jamie blinked his eyes a few times before coming drowsily awake. “You’re here,” he said in a raspy, wonder-filled voice. “Or…is this Heaven?”
Sky grinned at him. “I’ll admit I’m angel,” she conceded. “But you’re very much alive.” He responded with a crooked smile and she added, “It looks like your fever broke.”
“Yeah,” he rasped, slowly climbing up onto his elbows. “Oh, man, I’m sweating my ass off right now,” he muttered, as he pulled himself into a sitting position and then stripped off his damp tee shirt. She hadn’t seen him with his shirt off since that first time she’d come to his apartment.
“Sweating your ass off is good,” Sky said encouragingly—then felt an instant pang of self-consciousness for even talking about Jamie’s ass at all. Would he be able to tell how much she wanted him? She feared it might be obvious that she’d become consumed by lust for him. That she kept imagining the two of them hooking up, and even spent the past couple of days aching for it. Now, after seeing that article, she was actively fantasizing about Jamie going down on her.
“What time is it?” he said in a rough, gravelly voice that sounded incredibly sexy to her. That’s his sick voice, Sky chastised herself. Get it together, girl!
“About five-thirty,” Sky told him, focusing up again. “Um, are you hungry?”
“Yeah,” Jamie replied right away, then, with obvious disappointment, realized, “Damn, I hardly have any food.”
“I got you something,” Sky told him.
“You did?”
“Just soup and garlic bread from Grendel’s. No big deal.”
“Thanks, Sky,” Jamie said, tossing off the sheet that was twisted around his hips. Earlier, Sky had noticed sweatpants among the items that were strewn on the floor, so she knew Jamie was in his underwear right now and she couldn’t resist getting a look as he rose off the bed. His toned body was undeniably enticing and what she glimpsed of him in his snug boxer-briefs was very promising… Wow, she thought, feeling a strong current of attraction, and then abruptly caught herself. Averting her eyes, she turned before Jamie could notice she’d been checking him out, and said, “I’ll go heat the soup for you.”
“Thanks. I’m going to take a five-minute shower,” he called to her as she reached the kitchen.
Ten minutes later, Jamie entered the kitchen, dressed and rubbing a towel on his wet hair. “Feel better?” Sky said, setting his bowl of soup on the table, alongside a half-loaf of garlic bread that was tightly wrapped in foil.
“Yes. Better than before anyway,” he said, before coughing several times. Sky had to admit: though he looked a hundred times healthier than he had this morning, his cough sounded just as horrible.
“By the way…I hope you don’t mind, but I saw your sketchpad.”
That took him by surprise, she could tell. “Really?” he said with a dry laugh. “Were you blown away by my hidden talents?”
Ignoring his sarcasm, Sky said, “I thought it was pretty amazing.” Surprised, his eyes dashed to hers and she smiled. “I didn’t know that you draw.”
“I don’t really,” he claimed, seeming almost bashful for a second, which didn’t fit with his usual up-front personality. “It’s just something I do when I’m bored, that’s all. I’m glad you liked it, though.”
“There were no people,” Sky commented. “I just realized that.”
“I don’t draw people or animals,” he told her, pulling out a chair. “I can never get the faces right.”
“My favorite one was of the snowy woods. Big surprise there, huh?”
“Sure, I’m shocked by that,” Jamie said, grinning, “Miss Snow Siren.” As he sat down, he looked up at Sky as she picked up her jacket. “So…what are you doing now?”
“Um, nothing really,” Sky replied with a shrug. “Now that I know you’re okay, I figured I would just go home. I got a salad for myself,” she added offhandedly, pointing to the takeout bag on the counter. “Why? What were you going to do?”
“Well, after I eat this, I was probably just going to sit here—completely alone—hacking. Not computer-related,” he clarified, “but of a respiratory nature.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Sky said with a placating smile. Then gave a laugh and said, “All right, I’ll stay for a little while.”
“No, I wasn’t saying you had to stay or anything…” Jamie began.
“Oh, okay,” Sky said, looking doe-eyed at him, as though calling his bluff. “Then what were you saying?”
Jamie hesitated, before feigning confusion. “I don’t even know,” he claimed unconvincingly. “I think I’m still delirious.”
Before Sky could respond, her phone started ringing. “It’s Elle,” she said, recognizing the ring tone right away. “I’ll just call her back.” Before the “missed call” beep even sounded, Sky’s phone chimed, signaling a text message.
When she dug her phone out of her jacket pocket, Jamie ventured, “Elle again? Or one of your boy-toys?”
Sky shot him an amused glance at that and said, “Elle. She’s just letting me know that, if I’m interested, she and Brett are going to pick up Thai food on the way home tonight—”
“That’s cool, you don’t have to stay,” Jamie interrupted. “Do your thing. Have fun.”
“Shut-up, I’m staying.”
“Okay, but…I mean, it’s your call.”
“Obviously,” Sky said.
“We could watch a movie or something.”
“Sure. I’d love to,” she said casually and crossed to the counter to get her salad. Then she looked over her shoulder at him again. “What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing,” Jamie replied. “I’m delirious, remember?”
Chapter 19
By Wednesday, Jamie was fully recovered. And the reward for his suffering was an extra-long day at work so he could catch up on everything. Now he was finally approaching his apartment building after a seemingly endless day, though gaining a second wind at the thought of seeing Sky.
Everything had changed between them this weekend. She had seen him at his worst and she’d stayed. Way longer than she should have. She’d wanted to stay. Even with him looking and feeling like hell, and likely being contagious, she’d hung out with him. It was hard not to have a soft spot for any girl who tried to take care of you, but with Sky, his feelings went much deeper than that. The connection happening between them was obvious at this point—even though neither had yet stepped over that platonic line.
Tonight it would happen. Tonight Jamie would take Sky by the hand and lead her across that symbolic, razor-thin line they were paused on. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to say—he’d confess his feelings in whatever words came naturally in the moment. But really, enough torture already. He was dying to get his hands on her. His mouth. His everything on her everything…
Tonight, no matter what, he would kiss her, even if she slapped his face after. (Though he really couldn’t imagine Sky slapping his face.)
They had texted a few times throughout the day, but Jamie kept it innocuous, nothing too flirty. Sure, he could take the easy way, but, come on: telling Sky he liked her over text message would be the cowardly approach, and not how he wanted to start a relationship. If you wanted a girl, you had to man up and admit it right to her face. Women respected men who had the balls to go after them and not hide behind their phones. (He’d heard his sisters complain about this often enough.)
When he entered the building, he made the usual obligatory pit-stop at his mailbox. Just as he pulled out a stack of bills, he heard the front door swish open. Instinctively, he glanced over and just like that, Jamie’s mood went from revved up to pissed off—from confident to possessive. Sky was walking through the door…with some guy.
Her face lit up and broke into a smile
as soon as she saw Jamie. “Hey!”
The dude walking next to her smiled, too. “Hey, Sky,” Jamie managed, ignoring the guy altogether, and swallowing down his jealousy, which felt like painful shard of concrete in his throat. “Who’s this?” he asked. Maybe it was straight-up direct to ask about the guy flat-out, without waiting for an introduction, but Jamie was done with subtlety at this point. He felt territorial. He needed her to be his—period.
“This is Remy,” Sky said. Then an innocent giggle slipped out as she observed, “Hey, I just realized… Remy’s last name is Jameson. And your name’s Jamie. Isn’t that funny?”
“Hilarious,” Jamie gritted out. He noticed that Sky was just a little bit tipsy—nothing a stranger would probably notice, but Jamie could tell because he knew her.
“Hi there,” this guy, Remy, said with a practiced smile. Uncharmed, Jamie responded with a glare. Thankfully the douchebag wasn’t clueless enough to stick out his hand for a shake.
Despite his smile, Sky’s “companion” had a cocky swagger about him—not to mention, ridiculously pretentious ski lift tags hanging from his zipper. Nice touch, Jamie thought, unimpressed. Use the skiing thing to win her over.
“How are you feeling?” Sky asked, now eying Jamie with concern. “All better?”
“Just fucking wonderful,” was what he wanted to say, as he took in the sight of her: her hair, silky and dark, hanging loosely down her shoulders, her face completely natural except for a little eye makeup. Tonight she wore sexy-looking high heels to go along with her form-fitting, light gray pants. She didn’t have to turn around for him to know how great her ass must look in those. So what the hell was this? Jamie thought angrily. A blind date? Another fucking date—really?
Was Sky trying to look sexy (and succeeding beyond belief) for this guy?
First off, during their occasional text messages today, Sky had never mentioned having a date. Why would she keep it a secret? No, forget that; why would she even have a date after they had gotten closer this weekend? Was Jamie supposed to believe that the chemistry he’d felt brewing between them was all one-sided? That he’d been imagining it?