I blinked.
I took a deep, long breath. Then another. And another. I was panting as if he’d really given me a hand job.
It was when I managed to bring my breathing under control that I realized how cold my pants felt. I touched my cock, it was hard as a rock, but that wasn’t my concern. That was a regular occurrence around Dare.
I was far more concerned with how wet my pants and pajamas were.
“Shit,” I exclaimed.
Had I just had a wet dream like a fucking horny teenager?
I sighed and started to get up so I could get cleaned when I noticed Dare shaking his head and breathing heavily.
For a second I panicked. I thought maybe it hadn’t been a dream at all, and he was out of breath from our intense session but the sweat beading his forehead told another story.
I reached for him with my clean hand and, before I even touched him, I felt the burn against my fingers.
“Oh Dare,” I sighed.
Here he was with a fucking fever, and I’d been having a wet dream.
I was hopeless.
“Don’t worry, Dare,” I whispered. “I’ll take care of you.”
It was the least I could do after the way he had taken me in and everything he’d given me.
THIRTEEN
DARE
Something cold and wet touched my face and it was only once I felt the cool comfort that I realized how hot I was.
My eyes were heavy and sticky when I tried to open them, and it took a few moments for my vision to clear before I grounded myself with my body. Myachingbody.
I brought a hand up to touch my forehead and found a wet towel, but as soon as I tried to remove it Zach appeared and slapped my hand away.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I…I don’t know,” I croaked.
“Well, you’re not removing the compress from your head, that’s what you’renotdoing.”
His face entered my field of vision and I stilled. He had a concerned expression on his face and narrowed eyes that looked as if they could see through my thick skull.
He removed the cloth from my forehead and touched the back of his hand against my hot skin that only got hotter under his gazeand then replaced the cold compress with a new one from a bowl of iced water on the bedside table.
“How are you feeling?” he asked and before I could answer, he added, “where do you keep your thermometer? I couldn’t find it.”
“I…uhm…” I started as I tried to mentally go through my drawers before I told him to look in one of the units in the spare room.
He disappeared for a moment and came back, bewildered.
“I don’t know what the thermometer is doing in the same drawer with nails and screws but okay,” he said, plonking himself on my bedside and aimed the thermometer at my mouth.
“I’m not seven you know,” I told him.
He pursed his lips and handed me the device with a glare that he didn’t drop until I put the probe in my mouth.
