His words have me wanting to feel his mouth against mine, even if he has been puking his guts up. But I bite back the urge and settle for a wink instead, which prompts his smile to grow the tiniest bit. I stand and grab a washcloth from the cabinet, wetting it at the sink. “I’m going to get you some water,” I say as I lay the cool rag on the back of his neck. He acknowledges me with a subtle nod before closing his eyes.
I grab the bottled water I had discarded and return to the bathroom just as a wave of nausea hits Reese. He arches over the toilet, gripping the seat with his hands. His back goes rigid, every muscle flexing as he proceeds to vomit and dry heave. I kneel behind him and hold the rag against his neck, rubbing his upper arm with my other hand. This round lasts several minutes, and when he slouches down, seemingly finished, I pick up the water bottle and unscrew the cap.
“Here.”
He looks over his shoulder at me and takes the bottle. After swishing the water around in his mouth, he spits it into the toilet and repeats the action several times. He tries to stand, but I stop him with a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Are you done?”
He nods, pushing to his feet. “I think so. That shit sucked. I haven’t thrown up since I was little.” I follow him over to the sink, watching as he splashes some cold water onto his face. He grabs his tooth brush and slicks some toothpaste on it, connecting with my eyes in the mirror. I see his rake down my body. “How was your run?”
“Difficult. I had cupcakes yesterday and paid for it greatly.” I begin stripping out of my sweaty clothes while Reese continues brushing his teeth. “Are you going into work today?”
“No. I took a sick day. I need to go get my car and then I thought maybe I’d watch you bake.” He spits into the sink and rinses off his tooth brush. “If that’s okay with you.”
I smile, tossing my clothes into my hamper. “That’s definitely okay with me. You haven’t watched me bake in a while.” I reach into the shower and turn it on, testing the temperature. “But you’ll have to disappear when I start working on our wedding cake. That is off-limits.”
He steps up behind me, wrapping his arms around my body and pulling me against him. His hands splay across my lower abdomen, protectively caressing it. Like he knows without a doubt there’s something in there worth protecting. When I look down to watch, I see the sweat pooling between my breasts. Suddenly grossed out, I try to slip away but his grip tightens. “What are you doing?”
“I’m all sweaty.” I continue to squirm in his arms but freeze when his lips touch my neck.
“I like you sweaty.”
“You like me sweaty when you’re the reason for it.”
“Hmm. Let’s explore that.”
I turn in his arms, staring up at him with disbelief. “Don’t you feel like death? How can you even think about sex right now?”
He shoots me a baffled look. “You’re naked and I’m touching you. But honestly, you could be on the other side of the room in a fucking parka and I’d be thinking about it. I’m always thinking about it. Hangover or not.”
I flatten my hands against his chest and push. “Rain check, handsome.”
“With frosting?”
His request has my insides burning as much as my legs were on that run. We haven’t played around with frosting in a few weeks. Usually, the urge to lick it off me hits him in the middle of us fooling around, sending him sprinting into the kitchen for the ready-made tub I keep on hand for such occasions. He’s too impatient to wait for me to whip up a batch, which he proved when he bent me over my worktop and fucked me while the neglected, half-put-together icing went untouched. That happened a few days after we reconciled. And now, you’ll always find a tub of it in both our fridges.
I shoot him a cheeky grin and nod. At my promise, he drops his arms and returns to the sink, allowing me to finally step into the shower.