Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
That was the sound I fell asleep to.
But it was a panicked voice I woke up to.
“Zo? Fuck. You’re fucking hot,” he said, his cold hand touching my face. “And soaked,” he added, whipping the blankets off of me.
“No,” I grumbled, feeling like ice had replaced my blood. I needed more blankets, not less.
“Gotta get this fever down,” Coast said, moving around.
I heard the water in the tub running, then the rattle of pills in a bottle.
“Come on,” he said, lifting me up like a limp rag doll. “You gotta take your meds, alright?” he asked, sticking them between my lips. “Fuck, even your breath feels too hot.”
It was the genuine concern in his voice that had me forcing my heavy lids open to look up at his stupidly handsome face.
“Drink,” he demanded, pressing the bottle to my lips.
Objectively, I knew it was room temperature liquid, but it felt like it was fresh out of the freezer as I sipped.
“No, baby. You gotta drink it all. You’ve sweat through your clothes and blankets. You’ve gotta be dehydrated.”
Coast shifted his body under mine, pulling me up against his chest and putting the bottle to my lips again. “There you go,” he murmured, reaching with his free hand to move some of the sweaty hair off my face.
“How do you feel?”
“Cold. Achy.”
“Stuffy? Sore throat?”
“No. How’s Lainey?”
“Out cold after her last bottle. Still stuffy, but her fever seems to have broken. Can’t say the same for you.”
He capped the sports drink and tossed it toward the other bed.
“Come on.”
“Come where?”
“You’re going in a warm tub.”
I probably should have objected. I wasn’t a baby. I didn’t need someone to bathe me. But a warm bath sounded nice. Almost as nice as the feel of Coast’s arms as he lifted me into them and carried me to the bathroom.
Coast sat me down on the edge of the tub, then reached to pull my pant legs down, leaving me in my panties and dubiously fuzzy legs.
“This is too heavy to keep on,” he said, tugging the hem of my long-sleeve tee. “Want me to go find you something to put on?”
“Why do I need something to put on?”
“Because I can’t leave you in case you nod off.”
“Oh. No, it’s fine,” I said, reaching down with my heavy arms to pull off the top. Knowing full well I had nothing on underneath. And not caring.
I mean, from the stories he told my infant, he was no stranger to boobs. Mine were certainly not going to be the most impressive set he’d ever seen. Because if there was one thing that was true about ballet, it was that it kept your body lean. So did chronic stress. I was just shy of flat.
“Sure?” he asked, reaching for it for me.
I gave him a nod, and that was all he needed to pull the material up and off me.
Then I was in nothing but my beige panties.
Coast sucked in a deep breath and valiantly tried to keep his gaze on my face as he tested the water.
But when he reached down to lift one of my legs over the side of the tub, some of his hair tickled over my chest, making a gasp escape me and a shiver rack my system.
“I know. We’re gonna get you in the warm water,” Coast said, misinterpreting the reaction as he got my other leg into the tub, then encouraged me to sink in.
It really was only lukewarm, but it felt good regardless.
“Know it’s not the third-degree burn temperature you guys typically like—”
“You guys?”
“Women,” he said, giving me a knowing smile. “Like you enjoy bathing on the surface of the sun or some shit.”
“You’re not wrong. Even in the summer, I like a hot shower. I used to run the hot water heater out back home.”
“Where’s that?”
“Maine,” I told him. “I was born and raised there. But I always knew I was meant for somewhere warm. I don’t handle the cold well.”
“Never really been anywhere cold,” Coast admitted. “I was raised down here in the swamp.”
“I can picture that,” I said, shooting him a smile. “Shirtless with a beer and a smoke, riding a gator.”
“Might need to commission Jade to paint that for me,” he said, eyes warm and crinkling.
“I wondered if she was an artist.”
“She is. Good too.”
“What about Sass?”
“Former street racer. Current auto parts store owner.”
“Street racer? Really?”
“Yeah, that’s how she met Che back in the day. Eddie too. And Donovan.”
“How did you find your way to the club?”
“Word got around that they were looking for prospects. It sounded like a good time. Gave it a shot.”
“Were you a biker beforehand?”
“I mean, I had a bike. Bike, ATV, dirt bikes… you name it. If it was fun and reckless, I was there.”
“Why?”
“Why what?” he asked, reaching for a washcloth, wetting it, then using it to wipe my sweaty face.