Page 51 of Gorgeous

He disagrees and tries to stand. “Please,” I beg, stopping him by putting my hand on his bare thigh. “Please don’t make me watch you writhe in pain anymore. I can’t take it.”

I fully expect him to tell me to leave then, but he hesitates, eyeing the pill in my hand and then my face. “Please,” I plead one more time. It’s hard to watch someone you care about in pain. He sighs and takes the pill from my hand, swallowing it dry. I hand him the water and he takes a small sip then hands it back.

Placing it on the table, I motion for him to lie back. Cade’s hands go back to his head and he folds over his knees again. “Stay with me?” he begs into his lap.

Say what?

Did he just askme, of all people, to stay with him? The man who asks me if he can give me a ride home every day? The man who just told me to go away about a billion times wantsmeto stay?

Holy shit.

A self-respecting woman would tell him no. I helped him and now he needs to rest, but like I said, even heroes need saving sometimes, and I just put my cape on.

“Are you sure?” I need confirmation he actually asked and it wasn’t the pain talking.

“Please don’t make me ask again.”

Humility will get you everywhere. Especially in my panties. “I’ll stay,” is all I’m able to get out.

He mumbles out a quiet, “Thank you,” before folding his almost naked body into the bed. He’s shivering, and I wonder if it’s truly a migraine, but then I remember it’s like below zero in here and he’s damp and in a towel. I lift his comforter up off the floor where he kicked it earlier, and pull it up to his shoulders. I slide in next to him awkwardly. I’m not sure what the hell I plan on doing while he rests. I can’t turn on the TV or play on my phone because of the light and noise. Cade groans into his pillow. “My head is fucking pounding.”

I remember Anniston saying something about pressure points but I don’t want Cade to know I’d have toGoogleit in order to try and do it. Kind of lessens the faith. “I can massage your shoulders,” I offer. “I don’t know much about pressure points but maybe it’ll help until the medicine kicks in.”

I do know how to massage some damn shoulders. I’m not totally worthless.

Cade doesn’t jump at my offer and I don’t take it personally. He’s not thinking clearly with the pain and all.

“That would be nice. Thank you,” he finally rasps out.

Twothank yousin less than ten minutes. Times are changing, folks!

“You’re welcome,” I say.

Oh my word. You’re welcome? I am such a loser.

Instead of commenting, Cade rolls flat onto his stomach and holds his pillow over his head.

Easing the comforter off his shoulders, I start in the middle of his back, kneading and pinching slow circles as deep as I can into his tense muscles. He never says if it feels good or if it’s annoying the shit out of him but I keep going because for once he doesn’t seem to be in as much pain as before. Hours pass—okay, it’s about fifteen minutes, but my fingers ache and my shoulders hurt from the awkward angle of trying to massage Cade’s back from the side of the bed. It would have been much better if I could have sat on his butt. What? It’s more ergonomic.

Slowing my circles, I pop the fingers in my hand, rolling my wrist in a stretch. When Cade doesn’t protest, I look closer and notice that his arms are limpand not flexed at his head like before. His breathing is slow and even.

He’s asleep.

I pull the blanket up to his shoulders and ease the pillow off his head, taking a minute to just stare at him. It’s rare that I get a chance to just all-out gawk at him, so I take this minute as a reward for dealing with his shit all week and not poisoning his food like he deserved.

His face, dusted in dark hair, seems peaceful, and I hope that means he’s not stuck in a horrific nightmare. Watching his back rise and fall with every breath, I realize that under the hard exterior is a man who will one day change the world.

There’s a breeze drifting across my ass crack, gentle and rhythmic, like breathing.

Flat on my stomach, in bed, the room still dark as night, I can’t decipher what time it is. How long have I been asleep? And why can’t I roll over?

It hits me just as another breeze grazes across me.

I fell asleep with Breck’s soft hands kneading my back, easing the pain of the most horrific headache I have ever felt. I don’t know what brought it on or when I felt like death would have been a viable option, but stubborn Breck and Anniston couldn’t let me die in peace.

Especially Breck.

Fucking sliding the pants off my hips like it was a profession. Had I not been about to detonate from the inside out, I think I could have been tempted to touch her. Just one single, solitary touch. To know if she feels just as good as I imagine she does. But no. Pain ripped through me, punishing me for my sins, and I was weak before her.

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