Page 57 of Desiring an Angel

Violent heaves emptied my stomach, and still I hugged the toilet, my insides attempting to exit up my raw throat.

I ached a little, but I wasn’t feverish, didn’t feel sick beyond the stomach.

Not food poisoning, otherwise I wouldn’t be alone in my misery since we’d all eaten the same dinner.

Definitely a tummy bug…

Memories flooded my brain of my pale twin weak and vomiting with the same kind of force I did.

I retched again, coughing on nothing.

“Fuck.” I spit the acidic taste from my mouth, eyes clenched tight thinking about Archer and the signs no one in our family had considered to be serious until it was too late for a cure.

My heart sped up, and I went lightheaded. I lay on the cool marble floor, focusing on counting to keep a panic attack from taking over.

Or were my dizziness and shortness of breath two more symptoms…

I turned off my morbid thoughts, focusing on the picture in my head of Skylar in our bed. Her soft, satiny skin beneath my fingertips, the way she fit against me as perfectly as Rhett did.

He had been out of sorts since learning about our houseguest, but I hadn’t expected any different. He did, however, surprise me by conversing like a normal human being over dinner, same as he did whenever we’d met up with potential women.

That hope I’d had remained throughout the evening, overshadowing the slight nausea and indigestion that had returned after eating.

He’d watched us in the pool after giving me the okay to invite Sky into our bed, but his gaze remained closed off as usual. He wasn’t averse to her—I recognized the flashes of heat in his gaze a few times during dinner.

When he reached out of his own accord to touch and taste would be the day I knew his interest went beyond the physical. He’d never agreed to sex with a woman since we’d begun searching for our angel unless he approved of her character.

If something happened to me…

The air rushed from my lungs as though I’d been punched.

No, no, no…

I opened my eyes and blinked against the harsh light I’d flicked on overhead before falling to my knees.

Rhett would be torn apart if I got sick and cancer ate at my blood and bones like it had to Archer. He would need someone to hold, a rock to cling to, someone else to love him and help him deal with his emotions.

“You’re overthinking this shit,” I muttered to myself and pushed up to lean against the wall. “Stop focusing on it…”

The lightheaded feeling had faded, the nausea gone.

“It’s acid reflux or a virus that needs to work its course, nothing more.”

I used one of the packaged toothbrushes we kept beneath the sink for guests, scrubbing away the taste of bile and acid from my mouth.

When I returned to our bedroom, Rhett hadn’t moved, but Skylar had rolled over to face the wall. Her hand lay beneath her face, without doubt leaving finger lines indented in her cheek. Lips parted, she breathed quietly, as peaceful as a sweet little lamb.

A perfectly-sized Ashton space lay empty between the two of them.

I couldn’t help my smile or the sense of contentment as I crawled into the spot I’d vacated. Rhett gravitated to my back, same as he always did in his sleep, his arm once more wrapping tight around my chest to hold me close.

I reached out for Skylar’s waist, tugging until she stirred and shifted toward me. Nosing over her mass of lush hair, I breathed in the scent of coconuts, my fingers splayed over her soft belly.

Blood trickled southward into my groin regardless of the previous half-hour of heaving and talking myself out of a panic attack.

My pinkie moved on its own, caressing back and forth along the bottom hem of Skylar’s tank top, easing beneath to rub over soft skin.

She sighed and snuggled closer, the round globes of her ass pressing right up against my dick.

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