Still in denial that I’d caught the flu from my stepdaughter, I canceled my morning appointments and went back to sleep for a few hours. My hope plummeted around noon when I woke up and dragged my ass to the bathroom, where I took my temperature. A hundred and two.
I can’t be sick.
I have a date tonight, and Hunter is leaving in three days.
A wave of chills seemed to answer that thought—but not the type of chills I normally had when thinking of Hunter Delucia. My brain wanted to be frustrated, but honestly, I didn’t have the energy to be upset. It was all I could do to choke down two Tylenol and crawl back under the covers.
I couldn’t bring myself to officially cancel my date until Hunter texted later in the afternoon.
Hunter: Wear red tonight.
Disappointment settled in. This was how things were going to end for us. We wouldn’t even get to go out with a bang.
It hurt the skin on my fingers to type back, if that was even possible.
Natalia: The only red I’ll be wearing tonight is from a fever. Sorry. I think I caught Izzy’s flu.
Hunter: Shit. Sorry. You need anything?
Natalia: Got a magic pill to make me better?
Hunter: I’m going to refrain from telling you I have something you can swallow that will make you feel better.
I smiled and shook my head.
Natalia: I’m really glad you refrained…
Hunter went silent after that. On any other day, I probably would’ve wasted two hours overanalyzing the stream of texts. Lucky for me, today I didn’t have the energy. The fever had wiped me out, and I fell back asleep for a few more hours, until the buzzer woke me.
I padded to the door with my blanket wrapped around me.
“Hello?”
“Jus
t me,” Hunter’s voice said. “Got done early so brought you some chicken soup.”
The girly part of me wanted to run to a mirror and wash my face and fix whatever smear of yesterday’s makeup was likely still on my face. But the sick part of me told the girly part to shut up and sit down. I pressed the buzzer to unlock the door, then leaned against the wall while I waited for the elevator to arrive.
Even sick as a dog, the sight of Hunter striding to my door woke up my body. He wore jeans and a button up that was rolled at the sleeves. And he had on those work boots I loved. He was also carrying bags in both arms.
“Guess you just came from the job site?” I said eyeing the boots as he walked.
“Nope. Had a client meeting, then a meeting down at the building department. Wore the boots because you like ’em.”
“How do you know I like them?”
“I watch you.” He kissed my forehead. “It’s how I also know you like it when I hold your hands above your head while I’m inside you.”
I do like that. God, was I that transparent? “What else do I like?”
Hunter smirked. “You like it when I trace your collarbone with my tongue. And you really like it when I tell you all the things I’m going to do to you, even though you don’t want to admit you like it when I say you have a sweet cunt.”
My jaw dropped open. He was so damn right. I hated that word, but something about him saying that to me in the throes of passion really turned me on. And of course, just like he said, I didn’t want to admit it.
I shook my head. “What are you doing here anyway?”
He held up the bags. “Brought supplies.”