Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
He doesn’t ask me about it, thank goodness. I’ll make sure it’s dry-cleaned or laundered very carefully.
“I can’t even stand up,” he mumbles, slumping down against the shower door behind him again.
“I know. But you will. I’ll help you, and you’ll accept my help, because spending the night on this floor, suffering, isn’t an option.” I wrap my arms around his chest—I use that statement in the most professional capacity—and press my body up against his.
Professional. Word of the day. Be it. Completely.
I force myself to ignore the riot of sensation that swamps me at our proximity as I give him my support, helping brace him so he can get to his feet. He’s shaky, but I’m not. Despite our height difference and the weight he has on me, I’m solid. There’s no way I’m letting him fall.
“I know the IV isn’t fun, but sometimes it’s necessary. We’ll get you into bed and get you taken care of, then the buses will get back underway. We won’t be late, everything will get set up on time, and by tomorrow evening, you won’t be good as new, but you’ll be out there doing what you love.”
I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. But I will keep this one. I’m not letting Wilder miss this show. At least not if sheer force of will has anything to do with it.
My confidence seems to give him what he needs. He powers through the nausea of getting upright, and even though he has to lean heavily on me, we squeeze through the narrow bathroom doorway, make a hard turn, and almost make it four steps to the bedroom before Wilder’s legs give out.
Luckily, he throws a hand out to the wall, and I lean into him, sandwiching him there until he can catch a breath.
“It feels better when I’m doubled in half.” He side eyes me. I wipe all traces of alarm off my face. “That’s not good, is it?”
The cramping has to be brutal, and it’s not going to be just in his stomach if I can’t get him hydrated.
I wedge myself right up against him, pressing all of me into all of him, though he’s far too sick to notice. Not that he would anyway.
For the past five years, Wilder dated Alicia Thorton, one of the world’s most beautiful models. The public adored them. Shipped them. Stanned them. What-the-fuck-evered them. When they broke up three months ago, hearts were broken worldwide, and dating offers immediately tripled online and in person.
Tripled? I use that unit of measure lightly. They might have millionified.
The point is, Jackson Wilder can have anyone he wants. The world is at his feet. There’s no way he’d give a shit, even if he weren’t feeling like total ass and just about ready to pass right out, that my body is right there, my breasts jammed into his chest, my arms a solid circle around him, and my legs parted around his rock-hard thigh to pin him in place.
Wilder gulps in air, chokes, gags, and lets out a groan that vibrates all the way straight to the pit of my stomach. “I’m okay,” he wheezes, even though he’s so clearly not okay. “Let’s go. We need to get back on the road.”
He still has to lean heavily on me, but he hobbles, slightly crouched over, into the bedroom. It’s only a few feet away. When we enter the room, he peels himself out of my arms, falls onto the bed, and drags himself over it, curling into a fetal position.
I get him a trash can for the side of the bed and squeeze his shoulder. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m just going to see if my bag is here yet, and I’ll talk to Benny about getting the bus going again.”
He closes his eyes, swallowing convulsively. “Okay.”
Benny meets me in the hall, carrying my bag. “I was just coming to give this to you.”
I thank him, clap him on the shoulder, and give him a quick debriefing. He’s driven through the worst of shit over the years. Storms of all kinds in all seasons, crazy road conditions, jam-packed traffic… In the dead of night or the light of day, there’s no one better than he is.
When he says he’ll get us up and running immediately, I trust him.
Not even ten minutes later, the bus is moving again. I give the guys an update, not that they were overly interested in what I had to say, assholes times ten, take my bag, and head back to the bedroom. I shut the door behind me, locking Matt and everyone else out.
If Wilder could just, for one second, not have to rise to every freaking dare they ever threw his way, then this wouldn’t be happening. He’d still have his real teeth too.