He mutters something under his breath as he grabs the dancing vibrator from the floor and shuts it off. I’m somewhat wondering when the damn thing got cut on.
“Allie said you were sick, but judging by the power from that throw, I’m questioning if she’s out of her mind,” he grumbles, still rubbing his head as he studies my vibrator with far too much interest, even turning on a light.
“I am sick,” I defend, squinting against the dim light. “But when some guy breaks into my house, the fight-or-flight response kicks in with some oomph. What the hell are you doing in my house?”
I clutch my chest as my breathing tries to slow down, along with my furiously pounding heart. The more the initial terror wears off, the more everything on me starts to hurt.
“Why is this thing so heavy? It’s at least ten pounds or something. And how does this go inside—”
“You are not asking questions about my vibrator. And it doesn’t go inside you. It’s a clit stimu—No. No. I’m not explaining it to you. What the hell, Ethan?”
He pushes a button, and the wand is turned on to full, knock-your-clit-off speed, and his eyebrows go up like he’s fascinated.
“No way can my tongue ever move that quick. Would this not be painful?”
“I don’t use it on full speed.” I slap my head, then groan when I realize my head hurts too much for that. “Damn it, why are you here?” I ask again.
“Holy shit. What kind of batteries does this thing take? Is this spot for it to plug into the wall or something?”
“Ethan!” I snap. “Why are you here?”
He turns off the vibrator—finally—and tosses it aside, even though I can tell he’s still much too intrigued by it.
“Allie said you’re sick, so I’m here to help. Otherwise she’s staying. In fact, she’s waiting outside, probably listening to us talk about your massive, somewhat emasculating vibrator. I’m starting to question if your orgasms with me have been real.”
He smirks, letting me know he’s fucking with me.
“Why are you here?” I ask for the millionth time. Okay, so maybe it’s not really a million, but it feels like it.
I whimper as I slide back down on the couch, my body being punished for all the energy he’s made me use.
He shuts the light off before coming closer, still not answering my question. It registers too late that he said Allie was outside.
Ah shit. She’s going to be so pissed at me for not telling her about Ethan sooner.
Ethan’s hand feels like fire against my forehead, and I glare at him.
“Fucking shit, Bella. You need a doctor. You’re burning up.”
“It’s a fever. It always feels hotter than it is. My temp is hitting 102, and then it breaks, hence the reason I’m a sweaty, gross mess. I need you to go.”
He frowns as he pulls his hand down.
“You should let me take you to the doctor.”
“It’s a virus. Everyone at the hospital has had it, and I was stupid to think I’d escape, despite the copious amounts of Vitamin C that I’ve been popping. It has flu-like symptoms the first day, and soon the vomiting will commence. Yay me. The point is, there’s not really anything they can give you. It just has to run its course. Now go away.”
He lets his gaze drop to my very embarrassing shirt—yes, the one he left here. I’m wearing it right now. I hate myself.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t mention it. “If I go, then Allie will insist on staying. And she’s got a little girl who might catch… whatever you have.”
“That’s low,” I growl, still glaring at him.
He wisely restrains a smile. “I’m not above fighting dirty. I doubt you want to risk Angel getting sick, and Allie is pretty determined to stick around if no one else is here to take care of you.”
“Then tell her you’ll stay and leave shortly after she does,” I grumble, whimpering as the chills set in. Oh, I hate being sick. Stupid virus. Stupid Ethan. Stupid shirt I don’t want him seeing me wear like a stupid, stupid girl with a stupid crush.
Mentally, I count the amount of times ‘stupid’ crosses my mind, and get sidetracked with that until I notice Ethan wrapping a blanket around me.