Page 54 of Only for Tonight
“I wasn’t going to fucking leave you here like this.” His teeth are clenched together. “You were up all fucking night.” I close my eyes, trying to not feel like I’m a burden to him and having some sort of guilt about him taking care of me.
“You shouldn’t have cancelled; I would have been fine,” I say softly.
“You think I would have been able to even think about anything else but you if I left?” He shakes his head and ignores me. “If you have to throw up, you do it in here.” He picks up the stainless-steel garbage bin and places it on the bedside table. “I’ll be right back after I get this situated.” He points down to his dick.
I gasp, “Are you going to go and choke the chicken while I’m in bed?”
“Okay.” He holds up his hand. “No one is choking anything, and can we not refer to my cock as a chicken?” He glares. “It’s more like a python than a chicken.” I roll my lips together and try not to laugh. “I’m going to get it under control and then come back up.”
“Under control,” I snort out. “Did me throwing up arouse you?”
“It was you pushing your ass into my cock while you were brushing your teeth. If you were yourself and didn’t look like you were going to faint, I would have lifted one of your legs, placed it on the vanity, and fucked you from behind.” My mouth waters. “But we’re going to have to save that for another day.” He winks at me. “I’ll put it on my never-ending list of things I want to do to you.”
“Okay, please add it to the list.” That’s the only thing I can say as he nods and walks out of the room. I lean my head back into the pillows and close my eyes, putting my hand on my stomach. “I’m going to need you to go easy on me today.” I swear I feel fluttering inside of me and I’m not sure if our child is saying no or laughing at me.
I turn my head to the side and watch the water from his bedroom window. “I brought everything up,” he announces, walking into the room with a huge tray in his hand. “I have toast without butter”—he looks at me as he places the tray down in the middle of the bed as he sits on the other side of it—“bananas, water, ginger snaps, ginger ale, and saltines.” He points to everything. “They said Greek yogurt but that didn’t sound right.”
“Who are they?” I ask nervously.
“The internet people,” he admits, and I try not to laugh but I smile anyway. “Here, take a sip of the ginger ale.” He hands me the small glass. “It’s also been in that glass since five thirty, so it should be flat.”
“You got out of bed at five o’clock to pour ginger ale in a glass so it would be flat?” I ask him and he nods his head.
“That’s what friends do,” he mocks me and I roll my eyes.
“Still don’t have the energy to argue with you.” I look at him and then at the glass. “If it’s okay, I’m going to stick to water for now.” I reach for the water, having no energy to do anything.
I take a small sip and then sit back, waiting to see how my stomach is going to handle it. I take another small sip a couple of minutes later. I put the bottle down on the tray as I look at everything he brought up. “Thank you,” I tell him. “I’m just going to rest my eyes.” I close my eyes, and the minute I do, the water does a huge lurch back up. I reach over for the garbage can and almost fall out of the bed, trying to not throw up on said bed. He catches me around my waist before I fall off the bed as I throw up all the water I just drank, which wasn’t much, along with more water.
“Ugh,” I groan out, “why am I so sick?” I close my eyes, turning back to bed. “Can you get me a rag?” I ask him and he nods, grabbing the tray off the bed and placing it on the small table that he has in the corner next to a chair. I hear the sound of water coming from the bathroom and I can’t help the bile that comes up again.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he swears, “we need to call someone.” The little string of calmness he had is gone. “We need to fucking go to the hospital.”
“I’ll be fine,” I mumble.
“It’s been almost twenty hours that you’ve been throwing up nonstop.” I close my eyes, knowing he’s right and this isn’t really normal. “Ari,” he says my name in a plea, “let’s please go to the hospital.”
“Fine,” I huff out. “Only so I can be the one who can say I told you so.” I toss the cover off of me, standing but then sitting back on my ass just as fast. “Then you are going to have to admit I was right.”
twenty
Jaxon
“Fine,” she huffs out. “Only so I can be the one who can say I told you so.” She tosses the cover off of her, trying to be all brave standing up, but then she quickly falls back on her ass. “Then you are going to have to admit I was right.”
“They’ll be words I’ll have tattooed on my body,” I tell her, getting up and walking over to her, squatting down between her legs. “How about I grab your clothes for you?” I can see the exhaustion in her face. I can see how much of a struggle it is to do anything.
“Fine,” she concedes, as if she’s doing me a favor. “Get my black sweatpants and my black tank top. Or if you could just carry me to my luggage.” I glare at her. “Fine, just get me those things, all the black clothes are together.”
“Okay.” I look up at her and hate how pale she looks. Hating that after the last twenty hours with her throwing up more than anyone I’ve ever seen in my life throw up, she still has the attitude to serve me. “You lie back down. I’m going to get dressed and then come and dress you.”
“Jaxon, I think I can put on my own clothes.” She turns to get back in bed and rolls to her side in a fetal position.
I look up to the ceiling before I turn and head into my walk-in closet. I grab my own pair of black sweatpants, a white T-shirt, and a black sweatshirt. I walk over to her luggage in the corner of the room, hating that she’s just been living out of this suitcase since she’s been here instead of unpacking. Tossing the clothes around, I find a pair of black sweatpants and a tank top and grab a sweatshirt of mine before I walk out.
I find her with her head hanging off the bed and heaving into the garbage can. “I’m going to call an ambulance.” I toss the clothes on the bed, the fear creeping into my bones. My body goes cold and my hands feel like they have a layer of sweat coated on them.
“No, no.” She spits and then reaches over to grab a wet rag that I left there during the night. “Let’s just get me dressed and get me to the hospital so I can gloat in your face.”
