He chuckled wearily and braced his hands on either side of his perfect body to push himself up; my eyes immediately went back to his abs and the rippling muscles that contracted as he sat up. I thought I had more fat around my hips than he did on his entire body. With a few grunts, he was up with his legs swung over the side of the bed. "You don't think I need to go to the doctor?"
"Only if you want to. " I told him, but really, I was staring at the lines of sinewy muscles on his biceps and triceps like a person on the verge of dehydration seeing water for the first time.
Tristan ran a hand through his mess of auburn hair and sighed. "I feel like shit, Kat."
"You feel like shit, but I bet you haven't taken anything, right?" I knew he hadn't. When my dad would get sick he refused to take medicine. He didn't even like to take Tylenol, and every other man I'd ever encountered had been the same way.
"No," he said with a tired grimace.
"Get up then, your fever is too high, and we need to get it down. You need to take a cold shower at least."
Tristan got up and slowly made his way over to the opened door across from his bed. The bathroom was large, brightly lit, and modern in comparison to the older style of the house. A walk-in shower with clear glass doors and double vanity sink dominated the room. I pretended to look around the bathroom but stole glances at Tristan's reflection in the large mirror every chance I got. Opening up the doors, he messed with the taps in the shower. "How cold?"
"Cold."
He dug the palms of his hands into his eyes and grunted. "I'm so weak," he moaned. "I tried calling Calum, but he won't answer, and my parents are in New York this week. Otherwise, I wouldn't have asked you to come."
It was hard for me to believe he didn't have anyone beside his parents and Calum in his life that he could turn to. I had my three bitches, Ryan— who I could always rely on, and my dad was only a few hours away. I felt bad for him, but I also wondered why he didn't have anyone else to turn to. I figured that he'd met enough people in his life to find someone worthy enough to let in. "Don't worry about it, Mag."
Tristan tried to give me a smile, but he was feeling so crappy it didn't reach his eyes. "Thanks, Kat." I saw his hands rest on the elastic of his underwear before he hooked his thumbs into it, and then began dragging the material down toward the floor.
Oh my God.
I didn't know whether to look at him or away, so I hissed. "What are you doing?"
"Taking a shower," he said casually, but his eyes were playful and intense as they fixed on mine in the reflection of the mirror. It almost seemed like he was challenging me to look down. I was tempted, because it seemed like everyone else had seen him except me. He didn't wait for me and turned around to step into the shower. His perfect, globe-like ass teased me. I could still see him through the doors, and since he was taking a cold shower, there was no heat to steam up the doors to create a hazy barrier.
"Do you, uh, have a set of clean sheets?" I stammered out, distracted by the lean figure angled away from me as it stood like a statue under the spray of water. It was almost as if he knew my inner dilemma with seeing his peen. What if I saw it and it ruined me for others?
"In the top drawer of my dresser," he called out, weakly.
I wanted to stay and watch him, but I knew better. He was sick, and I needed to do what I could to make him feel better. Clean sheets always did wonders for me. I knew with the temperature his fever was at, as well as with the amount of sheets and covers he'd been wrapped in, his sheets had to be soaked in sweat. I walked out of the bathroom, heading toward the big dresser parallel to his bed. There were two top drawers, so I opened up the one on the left first and froze. There were piles of extra-large and extra-extra-large condoms practically filling the entire drawer.
Oh. My. Fuck.
Chapter 19
The sheets were in theotherdrawer.
Somehow, I managed to correctly change the sheets in my condom-induced stupor. The water from the shower shut off a couple of minutes before, and by then I was fluffing his pillows and trying not to think about the massive amounts of condoms he had stocked in his dresser.
Who did that?
I didn't know if I was scared of the fact that he had so many, or if I was kind of excited by the prospect that he had to buy the plus-sized ones.
I tried my best not to think about why he had so many condoms otherwise, I may have been tempted to put on some gloves before touching anything else in his bedroom. Hell, his entire house might have been contaminated with dried jizz and vag juices. Yuck. Maybe he bought them in mass quantities when they were on sale?
Tristan stepped into the bedroom with only a towel wrapped around his slim waist and his wet hair went in a million different directions. Despite the fact that his body was immaculate in proportions, his shoulders were slightly hunched and his face was droopy.
Then, I thought about those Durex XXLs sitting in his drawer again, and my face broke out in a wild blush.
He stopped at the foot of the bed, looking at me intently before a knowing, tired grin spread across his pale face. "You opened up the wrong drawer, didn't you?"
I hated him.
"Did you raid a Trojan factory and steal their yearly supply?" I sputtered out, instead of denying it.
Tristan snickered, but it was a weary noise, and he just shook his head before turning his back to rifle through the second row of drawers. "Calum buys me at least ten boxes for my birthday and Christmas each year, because he likes the looks on people's faces when he checks out. They're for... you know,workeven though I have more than enough to last me a lifetime right now."
