Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I blink, slowly, like my brain needs a second to reboot. I was ready to cradle him. I was ready to hold his hair back and whisper reassuring things and Google electrolyte solutions. I had mentally prepared to see puke.
Instead, I get…
Abs.
Abs. For. Days!
What the hell is going on?!
“Hey!” He sits up, pointing the remote to pause the television. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re sick.”
“I am?”
“You barfed at practice!”
“Oh.” He tosses the remote to his comforter. “Yeah. I mean—I did. But it wasn’t real barf. It was stress barf. Temporary barf. I bounced back.” He spreads his arms wide. “See?”
“You tired?”
Cause he does not look tired.
In fact, he looks annoyingly recharged for someone who barfed their guts out a few hours ago.
Luca’s cheeks have color, his eyes aren’t red, and his hair is doing that tousled, just-rolled-around-in-bed-like-a-Disney-Prince thing that should never not ever be allowed.
He shrugs, unabashed. “I took a nap. Had some crackers. Watched two episodes of Deadliest Catch. I feel fine now.”
I stare at him like he’s just told me he discovered a new planet.
“Luca.”
He grins. “Nova.”
“You made me think you were DYING.”
“No one said I was dying,” he protests. “Gio exaggerated. Classic goalie drama.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re the one who texted back all vague and moody. Tired. Maybe….What was that all about?!
“I was being honest.”
Oh.
Well.
He goes up on his knees and comes closer to the edge of the bed, reaching for me. “I love that you raced over here like I was having a medical crisis.”
“I hate you.” I rear back. “Wait. Did you brush your teeth?”
No one wants to kiss a guy who has puke breath, no matter how much they like him.
He laughs. “Of course I brushed my teeth. I barfed.”
Ew. Don’t remind me.
“Want to stay with me? Even though I’m not a dying mess?” He laughs. “I can fake cough if it’ll make you want to play doctor.”
My ears perk up. Play doctor?
Now there’s an idea.
I tilt my head and put a hand on my hip. “You need medical attention?”
Luca smirks, clearly amused but playing along. “I mean, I did puke this morning. That’s got to earn me at least a wellness check.”
I step forward, my hips pressed against the mattress and rest my finger along his jawline. “Patient appears responsive. Color looks good. Breathing seems normal.”
He opens his mouth wide and sticks out his tongue. “Ahhhh.”
I lean in, squinting to look inside his mouth. “Hmm. No obvious swelling. But I should take your temperature just to be safe.”
He grins. “Orally or the up-the-butt kind?”
I roll my eyes, snatching a throw pillow off his bed and whacking him with it.
“That’s disgusting. I’m the doctor here—show some respect.”
He laughs, but he lifts his hands like he’s surrendering. “Sorry, Doctor. Just trying to lighten the mood.”
I grab his wrist and feel for a pulse. “Hmm. Heart rate elevated. You got anything you want to confess?”
He raises one eyebrow, the amusement in his expression giving way to something softer, more curious. “Depends. Do you believe in patient confidentiality seriously?”
“Always.” I press the back of my hand to his forehead, checking for a fever. “You’re not warm, but I’m prescribing bed rest.”
“What kind of bed rest?” His hands go around my waist, dropping to my ass. “The fun kind?”
“Mmm,” I hum. “Not sure yet. I’m still waiting on that confession.”
His fingers flex around my waist, and I feel the shift in his mood—how the playfulness hasn’t gone away, but now it simmers beneath the surface, layered with something darker, deeper.
“I confess,” he murmurs, low and slow like honey. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
My breath catches. “Even while barfing?”
He groans. “Maybe not while I was actively vomiting, obviously. But before? After? Yes. Absolutely.”
“Hmm.” I make a show of scribbling on an imaginary note pad. “Mental note: obsessive thoughts. May need prescription.”
Luca grins, lips twitching. He likes this game…
“Can you kiss it better?”
I tilt my head. “Where exactly is the injury?”
“Everywhere,” he moans in mock misery. “I might need a full-body examination.”
I crawl over him slowly, straddling his waist, palms flattening against his bare chest. “You’re damn lucky I make house calls.”
“One lucky bastard.” He groans again, this time not so dramatic. His hands slide up under my sweatshirt, calloused thumbs grazing the skin at my sides. “God, I love when you’re bossy.”
Which is most of the time.
Ha!
“I’m a professional,” I tell him, leaning down to brush my lips against his jaw. “This is strictly medical.”
“Oh yeah?” His voice is husky. “Do you always straddle your patients?”
“Only the ones with the best abs.”
His hands tighten on my hips, pulling me closer until the heat between us is undeniable. It pulses, thick and electric, charging the air around us.
“I think,” I whisper, nose brushing his. “You need to be monitored closely.”
“For symptoms?”
“For compliance.”
He flips us, fast and smooth, the motion knocking the breath from my lungs in the best way. Suddenly I’m on my back, Luca hovering over me, dark eyes dancing.