Fox was right. I needed toeat something—my empty, rumbling stomach insisted on it—and two peanut buttercups wouldn’tkill me. They might even have made me feel a little less like the wholebuilding was spinning.
I struggled to tear open theunfamiliar packaging, fingers slipping on the plastic.
Fox’s fingers brushed againstmine as he took it from me, ripping it with one efficient movement. He handedit back without a word, as though I hadn’t embarrassed myselfagain. I wasn’t a baby, Ishouldn’t have needed someone else to open food for me.
An involuntary whimpersounded in the back of my throat as I took my first bite, the combination ofsweet chocolate and slightly salty peanut butter making fireworks go off in mybrain.
Worse, swallowing one biteof actual, non-coffee food made my stomach clench, hunger washing over me sostrongly I had to hold back a moan.
Judging by the way I couldfeel Fox staring at me, I wasn’t sure Ihadheld it back.
I shoved the rest of thefirst candy in my mouth more enthusiastically than I’d intended. I must havelooked ridiculous.
“If that’s how you react tothe cheap stuff,” Fox said as I licked chocolate off my lips. “I’ll have to getyou a decent bar some time.”
Licking my fingers, I riskedmeeting his eyes for a moment and found them warm and patient as always,lighter under the cool fluorescent tubes above us than they were under the warmglow of the energy-saving LEDs in my home.
A fleeting impulse to closethe gap between us and let him lick the remnants of the chocolate off my tonguetugged at my bellybutton.
The image of Fox pushing meback onto this couch and licking his way into my mouth, body pressing down onme, fingers roaming, slipping under my shirt, tickling my skin expanded to fillmy entire brain.
God he was hot.
I knew better than to thinkI could have him, but that didn’t stop mewanting. I wanted, foronce in my life, to have someone like Fox. Someone calm and gentle andconfident, with a crooked smile and laughter in his voice and the strength topick me up and carry me across the room without breaking a sweat.
We’d been a solid ten feetfrom this couch when I’d passed out. Fox had to have carried me.
Shame I wasn’t awake for it.
“You said you were ill?” Foxasked, looking me in the eyes.
Before I could answer, hepressed the cool tips of his fingers to my forehead. My eyes fell closed, therelief of his touch too good not to enjoy.
Unconsciously, I leaned ahalf-inch closer, still imagining what it’d be like if I kissed him.
“Mm,” I agreed. “Sorethroat. Fever. Doctor cleared me on Saturday.”
“You are hot,” he said.
“Thanks.” I grinned.
Fox snorted. He didn’t take his handaway, though.
“I feel fine,” I lied.
“I’m sure you feel lovely,”Fox murmured.
Lovely.
Why did he have to use thatword?
Why did it sound like he wasflirting again?
I would have felt better ifhe kissed me. His hand was already incredible, his lips would have been ahundred times better. Maybe he even had a real-life magic healing cock. Iwouldn’thave been opposed to running a few tests.
Fox moved both his hands tomy throat, and it felt so good I had to bite my lip to stop myself moaningaloud. If he kept this up, I was going to come in my pants.
My eyes fluttered open and Iblinked against the too-harsh light. Fox’s lips were parted, his browsknitted together, concern written all over his features.
