In all the time he’d known her, she’d only been this sick twice before. Once, after celebrating his Super Bowl win. The other time had been on a different vacation. She’d blamed tainted sushi, but he was reasonably sure it had had more to do with the sake she’d drunk with it.
When enough time had passed after her final bout of sickness, he tenderly scooped her up, breaking open more doorways in his heart, and carried her to her bed, where he tucked the covers over her. She immediately crawled over to the right side of the bed.
His heart received the final knock-out punch of the night. She still slept on her side of the bed. He’d tried sleeping in the middle after she left, but he’d soon reverted to sleeping on the left. It was the only way he could fall asleep.
“Blake,” she called gruffly.
“I’m right here,” he rasped out. It was where he felt he belonged.
Her eyes opened, and even though they were bloodshot and filled with pain now, they gazed at him with renewed focus. “Hold me.”
His plans to flee turned to dust. He couldn’t ignore her quiet request. He tucked her in and settled down on top of the covers, making sure to keep enough distance between them. When she cuddled close, he gritted his teeth and locked all his muscles into place so he wouldn’t soften against her.
Then she murmured, “I love you,” and he felt the first tears fall from his eyes.
Chapter 16
Natalie awoke to a pounding headache and a mouth as dry as the desert. When she tried to turn over so she could die, she couldn’t. She cracked one eye open and groaned.
Blake.
He was on top of the covers dressed in the most hideous outfit she’d ever seen him wear. Her mind started to turn like a rusty old wagon wheel, sending images from the night before flashing through her mind.
She and Andy going to Hairy’s Irish Pub. Playing darts and pool. Downing shots with the guys.
Oh, God. Tequila was the devil.
And that was all she remembered. Great, another Natalie Show had premiered.
Peeking under the covers to see what she was wearing, if anything, she was somewhat relieved to discover she had on her underwear and a nightshirt. Not surprising really. Blake had never crossed that line before, even though last night must have been hard for him. Hard. If she hadn’t been in agony, she might have laughed.
She let her lone eye close. It hurt too much to keep it open. Blake must have taken her home. Had Andy helped? The strong frame next to her stirred, and the bed dipped, making her clutch her stomach.
“Don’t do that,” she hissed.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll go get you some aspirin and water.”
“And tomato juice,” she reminded him.
“Do you want me to add the egg?”
She almost up-chucked right there. “No.”
Even though she suspected he was taking care to inch off the bed, the movement felt as profound as the trembling of the earth under a herd of dashing buffalo. She moaned long and deep as he left the room.
Moments—or an eternity—later, he returned to the room. “Okay, let’s do this,” he said. “You’ll feel better once you get this stuff down.”
He put his hand under her back and neck to raise her, and she bit her lip to still the cartwheels flipping in her stomach. “I hate this part.”
“I know.” His touch was gentle as he settled the rim of the glass against her lips.
She managed the pills and a few sips of both the water and the tomato juice. He helped her lay back down, but she found herself missing his warmth and the sweet touch of his hands, which had helped dispel the dizziness.
“I don’t feel as dizzy when you hold me,” she admitted. At this point, she had no pride.
A hefty sigh gusted out, and then he lay back down beside her. His warmth drew her. His strength anchored her. She nodded off, and when she surfaced, the dizziness was gone. She rolled onto her side and put her hand on his chest, the only place it seemed to fit when they were squashed together this way.
“I must have done a doozy last night,” she murmured, wanting more water to counter the dryness in her mouth, but not daring to move. Her tomato juice might decide to dance an Ole.
“Yes. Jordan is going to have to answer to me later. I can only hope he got as sick as you did.”
Unlikely. He outweighed her by nearly a hundred pounds. “Not my best moment.” Well, she’d wanted to forget, and she’d certainly managed to meet that goal.
He grunted in acknowledgment.
“Did I do anything I should regret?” she asked.
“Other than dance around in your underwear to Pink? Nah.”
She almost dove under the covers then and there. “So, I didn’t throw myself at you?”
The muscles in his chest clenched where her hand lay. “I managed to talk you down. You weren’t in your right mind.”
A powerful wave of grief rose up in her. So, she’d managed to hurt him again, using his desire for her against him. She should hide under the covers in shame, after all.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.