Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
The buildup isn’t long before I’m tempted again, though, so I pump in and out of her, tease her clit, and deepen the kiss until she’s pushing onto me, our bodies moving together and against each other. Her release strikes, sending her head back and her mouth wide open as her body tremors around my finger.
I let go, not able to hold on any longer. I can’t with her. I come hard and fast, pumping into her hand until every drop of my pleasure is released . . . into my pants.
Fuck.
Rolling off her, I fall onto my back and drape my arm over my head. Our heavy breaths are all that’s heard before I finally look over at her. “How was that?”
“I’m glad you stayed.”
6
Cooper
Story is scorching hot.
Literally.
Restless but still sleeping, she has sweat rolling down her temples. Earlier in the night, she was hot, so much so that I suspected she might have a fever. I reach over to feel her head with the back of my hand.
Shit. She’s sick.
I check my phone from the edge of the desk. It’s just past six. I get out of bed, trying to figure out where she might keep cold or flu medicine while wondering how long I have until I get sick since my mouth has been all over her. Well . . . almost all over her. There was a territory I was hoping to explore with my mouth later today after turning in my paper. I guess that’s off the table.
For now.
In the meantime, I head into the bathroom and do what I was always told not to—dig through her medicine cabinet. I don’t snoop through the general stuff but narrow my search for certain containers. I grab the Tylenol, knowing I’ll need to find a pharmacy open at this hour once I see what symptoms she has.
I get a cup of water, sit next to her on the bed, and have two pills ready on the nightstand before I wake her. “Story?” I whisper, stroking her cheek. She groans but doesn’t wake up. I’ve already been exposed, so I lean in and kiss her cheek. “Story?”
Her eyes fly open, and she sucks in a harsh breath, scrambling away from me. My hands fly up in front of me. “It’s me. Cooper.”
Through jagged breathing, she loosens her grip on the sheet and pillow as she comes to. “Cooper,” she says as if I’m a breath of fresh air. She smiles. “Oh my God, Cooper. It’s you.”
“Yeah.” I smile and nod. “It’s me.” Leaning forward, I rub her leg over the blanket. “You have a fever, Story. How are you feeling?”
Raising her hand up, she asks, “I do?” When the back of her hand rests against her forehead, her eyes go wide. “I feel hot, and my head hurts.”
I hand her the cup and the pills. “Take these. They can help with the pain and the fever. It was all I could find, but I’m thinking you need something stronger.”
A look of disgust tightens her lips when she sees the pills. She pushes up to stand. “I’ll be okay.” But then she wobbles and ends up staying seated.
“You’re sure about that?” When she looks at me out of the corner of her eyes, it’s then that I see how bloodshot they are. Taking hold of her arm, I help her to lean back. “I think you should take the pills, drink the water, and lie back down.”
“I think you’re right.” She swallows hard as if her throat has dried. Waving me off, she says, “You should go. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“Hmm. I’m pretty sure it’s too late for me, especially after what we did a few hours ago.”
A satisfied grin tips her lips up. “I suppose you’re right, but just in case.”
“No. You need someone to take care of you.” I help her lie down again after she takes the pills. Going to the desk, I grab my phone again and start looking for pharmacies that deliver. When I find one, I ask, “Runny nose?”
“Not yet.”
“Congestion?”
She rolls to her side with her hands tucked under her head. “Coming on.”
“Fever? Yes.” I glance up from my phone. The woman is beautiful even when she’s sick. “No itchy eyes, but are you fatigued?”
“Always.”
I chuckle because I can relate. “More than usual?”
When she reaches for her phone, she tilts it from the nightstand and glances at it. “It’s six in the morning, so I can honestly say I’m exhausted.”
“Valid.” I pick a few over-the-counter medicines to be delivered, but when I go to check out, a message pops up that it’s unavailable for delivery. “Shit,” I grumble. Glancing back at the window, I’d almost forgotten about the storm earlier. It’s probably what made her sick—the way it swept in without warning, along with the cold air.