“Hey. Corin.” My voice sounds so distant.
He glances up at me.
“You don’t have to stay,” I say.
He nods. “I know.”
But he doesn’t leave.
I watch him through half-closed eyes. The way his brow furrows when he’s concentrating. The way his fingers move across the screen. The way he shifts in the chair every few minutes like how he can’t quite get comfortable in furniture that wasn’t quite designed for someone his size.
He dropped everything to take care of me.
So?
Doesn’t mean anything.
He’s just being professional.
Wants to ensure his 100K investment remains in good shape and in full working order.
My eyes drift shut.
Maybe I’ll wake up to him licking my pussy...
Amara!
When I wake up,the room is darker.
Overhead, the ceiling fan is still spinning.
And Corin is still in the armchair, reading something on his laptop now, bathed in the blue glow of the screen. When did he bring that in? Guess it was in the bag or something.
“You’re still here,” I mumble.
He looks up. “How are you feeling?”
I do a mental inventory. Still feverish but not as bad. Headache duller. Throat less sandpaper and more regular paper.
“Better,” I admit. “What time is it?”
“Eight thirty,” he replies.
Geez.
I’ve been asleep forhours. “You stayed all day.”
“Marisol handled everything at the clinic.” He closes the laptop and sets it aside. “You hungry?”
“Now that you mention it... a little.”
He disappears into the kitchenette again. I hear the microwave beep, then turn on. After a minute or so he returns with more soup.
I eat sitting up this time, and manage to finish half the bowl before my stomach calls it quits.
“Good,” he says, taking the soup back. “Though I’d prefer you ate it all.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “You’re very bossy when people are sick.”
