Conspiring (This #2.5)

by J. B. McGee

  I moan as he sinks farther, arching my back. I cross my legs around his waist, trying not to dig my Jimmy Choos into him.

  He starts to move back and forth, slowly. “Damn, you feel good. So tight.”

  Our foreheads are touching. I tilt my head back because I want to kiss him. I wrap my hands around his head, lacing my fingers through his hair. I capture his lips. Our kiss is slow, sensuous. “Ah,” I breathe into his mouth.

  With every thrust, I am on the edge. I feel like I could fall off the cliff at any moment, but I’m not sure I want to. “Just like that. Don’t stop.” This feels so good that I want to keep going. I’m not ready for this to be over yet. But the throbbing is getting stronger, and I’m not sure how much longer I can control it.

  “You’re so close,” he groans.

  “I know. It feels so good. You feel so good,” I mutter. I put my arms under his and grab his broad shoulders from behind.

  He reaches down, reaching his fingers down to massage my clitoris, which causes my legs to tremble. Any self-control I had to manage my orgasm is lost immediately. I shriek as my body starts to pulsate.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” he growls.

  My limbs go completely limp. He continues at the same pace until the ripples that are surging within me are settling. His pace quickens. He grunts, and it only takes a few thrusts before I feel the vibration of his climax. I watch as he rests his forehead back on mine and squints his eyes closed as he slows his pace.

  He brushes my hair back from my forehead. “Wow,” he breathes.

  “Yeah. Wow.”

  “I guess I should go take care of myself,” he mutters as he pulls out of me and starts to roll off the bed.

  I grab his hand, pulling him back with one of my hands as the other grabs a tissue from my nightstand. “Here, use this. I’m not done with you yet.”

  His lips curve into a smile. He discards the condom into the tissue and tosses it on the nightstand. When he crawls back onto me, I push him over and climb on top of him. His eyes are heated, curious. “Just what did you have in mind? I only have one condom left.”

  I run my finger down his toned chest. “Oh I don’t need condoms for what I have planned.”

  Chapter 7

  I squint my eyes at the bright sun peering through my blinds. It doesn’t take long for me to realize as I wake up that I feel like crap. My body is achy; my chest is heavy. I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train. The heaviness in my chest becomes too much, urging me to cough. Once I start, I can’t stop.

  I sit up in the bed gasping for air. I’m naked, and I’m not alone. I pull the sheet up to cover my chest. Not like there’s any need to be shy now, Veronica. I roll my eyes at myself wondering what in the hell I was thinking last night. Maybe if I could stop coughing I could figure that out. I inhale a deep breath but all that does is make my cough deepen.

  A hand is on my back, and it startles me, causing me to jump. His voice cracks as he asks, “You okay?”

  The sound of the voice brings memories flooding back to my foggy brain. Ian. I see the entire evening flash before my eyes. If I didn’t think I was about to hack up a lung, I might really enjoy all of those delicious memories streaming through my brain. I shake my head from side-to-side remembering he asked if I was okay. I am definitely not okay.

  I jump up from my bed covering my mouth, the coughing not letting up, and rush to my bathroom. When I get to the commode, I uncover my mouth, and the violent vomiting begins.

  I am not sure how long I’ve been laying on the toilet or how long he’s been standing there when he finally speaks, “Do you have asthma?”

  “No. Why?”

  “You’re wheezing.”

  “Am I?” I am so weak I can barely speak, my abdomen is sore.

  “Yeah, my parents are doctors.”

  “So?”

  “So, I know what wheezing sounds like. Spent a lot of time living in a doctor’s office growing up.”

  “I never get sick. I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I insist.

  “No, you need to see a doctor.”

  I finally muster the energy to turn to look at him. He’s only wearing his boxers. He’s leaning into the door with his foot crossed, and his arms are folded over his chest. That chest. I blush remembering how incredible it tasted last night. “Thanks, but –” I can’t finish my thought because the heaviness is back. The coughing fit starts again.

  “How’s that doctor sounding to you right about now?”

  Smartass.

  I’d tell him that if I could stop coughing or vomiting long enough. Ugh. When I am finally able to breathe again, I turn back to him. I don’t even know if I have enough energy to pick myself up from the floor. “Good. Sounds good.” I put my hand out for him to help me up. “Need some help, please.”

  He smiles shaking his head. “Sexy even puking and coughing your brains out.” He takes my hand and pulls me up to him. The gravitation that I remember feeling last night is still very much there as I fall into his hard body. We both pause as he warily watches me. “You okay. Maybe just take a minute and get your balance.”

  “Thank you. You’re sweet,” I whisper.

  He chuckles. He’s laughing at me. I’m glad he finds this amusing because I’m completely humiliated. He smirks. “You’re welcome. Let’s get you dressed.” He takes my hand and starts to walk me back to the bedroom.

  I don’t move when he tries to move me. He turns back to me and gazes at me expectantly. “Actually, I really need to take a shower.”

  “Sure. That may actually help your cough.” He walks over to the shower, opens the door, turns the water on, and then closes the door back. It doesn’t take long before steam is billowing from the glass encased stall. “There you go,” he says as he re-opens the door and motions for me to climb into the stall.

  I’m surprised he hasn’t assumed he’s invited. He probably will never want to see me again after this. And that is fine because I’m not sure I want to see him after this embarrassing debacle. Even though Bradley and I aren’t committed to one another, I can’t shake the guilt I am feeling this morning from my reckless decision last night. Bradley aside, what the hell was I thinking bringing some stranger, hot albeit, but stranger none the less, back to my place?

  “You gonna get in, or what?”

  I nod my head. “Do you need a shower?”

  “Um, no. I don’t need one. Do you need help?” He stares down at the floor. Well this isn’t awkward at all, Veronica. He glances at me from under his long lashes. I can’t believe, given how sick I am, that he can look at me like that and still have such an effect on me. He quietly rambles, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to shower with you.” He smiles as he continues, “And enjoy that body of yours all morning. I just think I need to hurry up, and get you to a doctor.”

  “Right. I think I’ll be okay. You know? No need for help.” I point to the shower and take a step back. “Probably best if you don’t join me. I’ll only be a few minutes. Make yourself at home.”

  “Thanks. Holler if you need me,” he says as he turns to walk back into my bedroom.

  He’s right. The steam seems to be helping my cough. I’m still so nauseated. I’m not sure if it’s from my drinking last night or the coughing. I guess I really have been coming down with something.

  The warm water feels good on my sticky body. Between the club, hot sex all night, and my being sick, I feel disgusting. It doesn’t take me long in the shower. I quickly wash my hair and my body, despite the fact that I’d prefer to just sit in the floor, and go back to sleep.

  Climbing out and grabbing the towel, I get a whiff of freshly brewed coffee. The aroma fills my nostrils as I inhale. There is a tickle in the back of my throat. That heaviness in my chest is becoming familiar. It’s about to start again. I wrap the towel around my wet body while rushing back to the toilet, hoping to beat the vomiting.

  I am so weak I can barely move. Every time I try to lift my hand it shakes. Tears start
to trickle down my face. I am too tired to move. I put my arm over the seat and lay my head down on it waiting for the nausea to subside.

  “Hey. You okay?”

  I don’t know how long I’ve been resting my eyes. I didn’t even realize he had come back in the room. I peek up to him. Why is he being so nice and understanding to me? I muster up enough energy to shake my head, “No. I’m not.”

  “Well, I’m not sure if you remember or not, but we took a cab here to your place –”

  “I remember,” I snap back. I had a lot to drink, but I’ve never actually been drunk enough to not remember who I was with or what I had been doing. Disoriented, yes, but I’m very well aware of everything that took place last night. The mere thought sends a ping through my entire body, despite how horrible I feel.

  Ian is staring at me amused, as if he’s entertaining me by listening to me. I remember him being surprising last night. I recall how different I thought he was from Bradley. Right now he is really reminding me of him. I frown as I feel a little regret.

  “You wanna say anything else?” He smirks. “You look deep in thought. But then again, your cheeks just got a little color to where you don’t look like a ghost. So I’m guessing you were just recalling our night.”

  I huff, “Yes, about last night.” I roll my eyes. It’s not often I have nothing to say, but he’s been making word retrieval difficult since I laid eyes on him. “No, about having anything else to say.”

  “Good. My point about the cab was that we don’t have a vehicle here to get you to the doctor.”

  I hold my breath for a moment, which causes me to start coughing again. “Oh,” I sigh. Taking a cab was a brilliant move.

  He continues, “So I called my roommates while you were in the shower. They’re bringing my car. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

  “Um...” I am not sure how to ask if that means he’s leaving me to be sick on my own, or that he’s going to provide transportation to the doctor for me. “Well, thank you for everything.”

  He looks puzzled. “No problem.”

  This isn’t awkward much. “If you’ll just lock the front door when you leave.”

  The thought of giving him my number crosses my mind. I wouldn’t blame him for never wanting to see me again. I have probably earned the top spot on his worst idea ever list. I don’t think I can take rejection at the moment. I turn my head so I’m no longer looking at him. To think I actually felt like a whore before I met him because of Bradley makes me sarcastically laugh to myself. I certainly feel like one now.

  “I’ll be happy to lock up on our way to take you to the doctor. Where do you keep your panties and that bra you weren’t wearing last night?”

  I snap my head back to see him. Not smart, Veronica. I feel like I’ve just been hit over the head with a bat. I clamp my eyes closed, trying to let the feeling of my brain bouncing in my head settle. He’s not just hot, sexy, and great in bed. He’s actually caring. He’s offering to take care of me. Now there’s a novel concept.

  “I mean you’re in no condition to care for yourself right now. There’s no way I’m going to just leave you like this. You’re clearly very sick.”

  That statement brings me back to earth. Of course. Leaving me in this condition would make him a total douche, so he’s only doing this to make himself feel better. “I appreciate it. I can call Val, though.”

  He rolls his eyes and shakes his head clearly exasperated with me. “Don’t be silly. They are almost here.” He walks into my closet and yells, “Where do you keep your sexy underwear in this massive closet?”

  “I’ll get them. Just help me up, please.”

  “No, you rest. Just tell me where they are.”

  Grr. Showing him my underwear drawer shouldn’t make me modest after everything we shared last night, but it does. I put my hands on either side of the seat, trying to push myself up, but I just fall back down. Ugh.

  I cross my arms over the toilet seat and rest my head on my arms. “See those drawers that face my bedroom on the island?”

  “Yep,” he calls back.

  “Panties are in the top drawer…” Talking is making me out of breath. I’m barely able to finish my sentence before the coughing gets out of control again. “And bras are in the second.”

  I have nothing left to vomit, so I’m dry heaving into the bowl, which has me in tears. There is nothing I hate more than vomiting. I seriously think it’s like hell on earth. Want to torture me? Want to make me pay for every single bad thing I’ve ever done? Just induce vomiting.

  When I’m done, his hand is beside me. He’s holding a cool washcloth out to me. My surroundings seem to be a blur to me today. I don’t remember hearing him turn the water on to wet it. I don’t get why he’s being so good to me, but I’m appreciative. Being sick is the one time I really hate that I’m single. The only thing that makes vomiting worse is having no one to help take care of you.

  I reach over shakily taking the cloth. “Thanks,” is all I can manage.

  “Mhmm. I know you’re really weak. Let me help you up.”

  He reaches from behind me and puts his arms under my shoulders, lifting me like it’s nothing. The movement causes my towel to fall to the floor. I’m even more wobbly on my feet than I had been before my shower. He quickly turns me around as I fall into him. The chemistry is still nearly palpable. I swear it seems to be getting stronger, which I didn’t think was possible last night. It surprises me as sick as I am. Maybe it’s just because he’s being so sweet to me. I look to him warily. I have no idea how I’m going to even get out of my bathroom, let alone to my bedroom, and then to the driveway when the time comes.

  “Just take enough steps to get out of this little room. I gotcha,” he assures me. Add mind reader to the list of sexy attributes he possesses.

  He backs up, and my feet drag a few steps before we stop. Now out of the little room inside of my bathroom that houses only my toilet, he swoops and picks me up, cradling me into his bulging arms. I rest my head on his chest. My arms, too weak to lift, dangle down my side.

  He gently places me down on the bed. My how things can change so quickly. Just a few hours I was in this exact same position but for other activities. Far more fun activities.

  Ian is towering over me, just standing there surveying me. Probably because I’m so sick and vulnerable, it makes me uncomfortable. I shrug my shoulders. “What?” I am so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.

  He shakes his head from side-to-side with his eyes closed. “Nothing.” He picks the underwear up that he had gotten out of my closet earlier, and holds them in front of me. “These okay?”

  “Yes.”

  He nods his head. Methodically, he slides them over my legs. When he reaches my hips, I tilt my pelvis so he can push them the rest of the way.

  He’s very serious. I have no idea what he’s thinking. He mumbles, “Any other circumstance and I’d rather be taking those off you rather than putting them on.”

  I smile the biggest smile I can manage, which isn’t much. It’s nice to hear he still has desire for me, that he still finds me attractive after all the puking. He picks the bra up next. “This one good?”

  I nod my head.

  He points and motions. “You’re gonna have to sit up for me to put this on you. Do you think you can do that? I mean I’ll help you.”

  “Uh huh.”

  His entire body is over mine, our chests touching. He threads his arms under my armpits, and his hands brace my shoulders. I can feel my pulse accelerating. Tears fill my eyes as I realize that no man has ever taken such good care of me before. I don’t think I realize how much I had yearned for this.

  “You okay?” he whispers into my ear. I hear the huskiness in his voice. It’s familiar. I heard that last night.

  “Yes. You?”

  “Yep. I’m good.” It’s gone. Like he has a button that he pressed to make his desire for me disappear. He pulls me up. When he’s steadied me, he puts my arms through my straps
. He places his knee on the bed in between my legs and rests his head on my shoulder as he clasps the back.

  When he’s backing up, he fingers my long blonde locks. “What about your hair. You want a brush or one of those hair things to pull it back?”

  “Yeah. I have an elastic tie in the top drawer of my nightstand,” I cough.

  He climbs off the bed and retrieves it for me. I pull my hair back, and decide to stay sitting up instead of laying back down. That heaviness in my chest was far worse when I was lying down.

  He grabs the hot pink T-shirt he got from my closet. Even though we moved to Georgia when I was a little girl, I spent a lot of time with my aunt in Greer, SC. She had bought me this shirt a couple of years ago. Told me I’d always be a Carolina Girl. It has a lime green polka dot palmetto tree on it. It makes me smile. Those South Carolinian’s love that palm tree with some polka dots.

  His lips curve into a smile. “Are you a Carolina Girl?”

  I wobble my head and shrug my shoulder. “Kinda.”

  He creases his eyebrows and curls his lips into a sideways sexy grin, “Kinda?”

  “Born in South Carolina but raised in Georgia.”

  “Well, then. You’re a Carolina Girl. Arms up,” he says very matter of fact.

  Arms up. Ah, the last time I heard him say that it was to undress me. Damn whatever is making me feel so sick.

  “Were you a cheerleader?” he asks.

  That surprises me. Where did that come from? “Yes. How’d you know?”

  “You have those shorts cheerleaders wear. The ones that barely cover their asses,” he chuckles.

  I snicker.

  He holds my black Soffe shorts out, “Stand up and step into these when you do.”

  I clutch his arms for balance as I stand up to step into them. Any other day there is no way in hell I’d be caught in public in this outfit he’s picked for me. But today I’m way too tired to really care. After both of my feet are in, he pulls them up to my waist. “I got you these flip flops. Figured you don’t feel like wearing socks and tennis shoes, right?”