by Sara Fawkes
“Nobody important, or they would have left a message,” he answered, then gestured to what I held in my hands. “What’s this?”
“A gift, apparently.”
He reached down and took the bottle and glasses. “Good champagne,” he said, examining the bottle. “Must be from one of the patrons tonight.”
I stared at the bottle, wondering how he knew it was a good vintage. “I’ve never had champagne before.”
Jeremiah gave me a surprised look. “Never?”
I shook my head. “I only ever had sparkling cider as a youngster, and when I became old enough I never got invited to functions that served it.”
“Well then.” Taking the flutes and bottle in one hand, he helped me to my feet then steered me with a hand on my back toward the suite’s kitchenette. “At least your first taste will be an expensive bottle.”
I watched in amusement as he unwound the wire cage around the cork, then pointed it toward the wall as he popped the cork. Taking the two flutes, he filled them just below halfway before handing me a stem. “Drink.”
The pale yellow liquid fizzed in the glass, looking no different than the sparkling fluid I’d always grown up with as a kid and young adult. Curious, I took a sip then wrinkled my nose at the bitterness, the liquid making bubbles on my tongue. A second sip did little to endear me to the expensive drink. “Ugh, I’m not cut out to be a lush.”
Jeremiah laughed, and the sound startled me. He seemed more relaxed and open, and for the life of me I couldn’t understand what had happened. The look he gave me of almost boyish amusement had my heart doing flip flops. Does the man realize how gorgeous he is when he looks at a girl like that?
“Perhaps it is a bit of an acquired taste.” He swirled the liquid lightly in the glass but continued to watch me.
I flushed at his perusal, then kicked myself. Take some initiative, girl, I chided myself. “Have you ever had a body shot?”
It was his turn to look startled; his eyebrows shot nearly to his hairline. “Have you?” he countered, and seemed unsurprised when I shook my head. Amusement lit his face and I watched him in wonder; his mood had turned almost playful, not at all the brooding, domineering man I’d seen so far. The challenge in his eye, however, stirred the rebel in me because I met his gaze with an eyebrow quirk of my own. Holding his eyes, I leaned my head back and tipped my glass over my chest, the fluid splashing onto the robe and down between my breasts.
My audacity had the desired effect. Jeremiah’s eyes darkened and he reached out, pulling me back into his arms. “You are quite the tease,” he said, plucking the glass from my hand and lowering his lips to my neck.
My belly cramped, and I flinched, but tried not to think much about it. Jeremiah’s lips trailed down my neck toward the expensive liquid coating my breasts, but when my stomach twisted a second time, I gave a little gasp, my body bowing forward. The amusement vanished from Jeremiah’s face as he pulled me upright. “What’s wrong?”
His harsh voice demanded an answer, but I had none to give. “Don’t, feel good,” I managed, then stumbled toward the kitchen sink. I barely made it there before retching, unloading the meager contents of my stomach into the basin. My legs were turning to jelly and I was having difficulty keeping myself upright, even bracing myself against the marble countertop.
I heard the sound of breaking glass behind me, and I looked to see a dark stain on one wall, the remnants of the champagne flute and its previous contents drifting to the floor. Jeremiah grabbed a nearby phone as I retched again. “I need a doctor to this suite immediately,” he barked, then my legs gave out and he dropped the phone on the counter to catch me as I fell. “Lucy, stay with me.”
My stomach heaved, clenching and twisting, and I cried out. A hand smoothed my suddenly damp hair back from my face as I shuddered, moaning, no longer in control of my body. I felt myself be lowered to the ground, and Jeremiah’s blurry silhouette came across my field of vision.
“I need a doctor now!” A rushing sound filled my ears; Jeremiah’s voice was dulled as if through water, but I could hear the frantic note in his words. Then my body stiffened, muscles constricting almost painfully, and the world went dark.
***
Stories by Sara Fawkes
Back In The Groove
Anything He Wants
Anything He Wants 2: All’s Fair
Anything He Wants 3: Love and War
About The Author
Sara Fawkes has always loved spinning tales. One who’s been writing since she was a little girl (and has the home made books from preschool to prove it), she loves creating stories and characters and interesting messes for them to get into. And for the handsome guy to always get the girl in the end. An avid traveler and adventure motorcyclist, her dream job includes selling everything off and leaving civilization to see the world on two wheels, writing in cafes in each country she visits, and living off her writing. In the meantime however, she lives in California with her menagerie of pets and, when not writing, loves to rebuild old motorcycles/cars and practice her fiddle. You can find her online at http://sarawriteserotica.wordpress.com or Twitter @sarafawkes talking about whatever strikes her fancy.
Anything He Wants 3: Love and War. Copyright © 2012 by Sara Fawkes. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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