“I’m not a kid.”
“Then stop acting like it. You’re worse than Bow right now.”
“How is Bow?” I pushed the blanket off me and set up too fast, causing my stomach to turn and my head to spin like a Tilt-A-Whirl.
“Easy. Bow is fine. Her fever is down and she’s in her room watching Princess movies. She already ate dinner and seems like she’s bouncing back.”
“Good.” I laid back down, ready to die now that I knew Bow was ok.
“No. No fucking dying, Samantha. Don’t talk like that.”
I was too out of it to notice the vehemence behind his voice or the expression on his face. I didn’t even realize I’d said that out loud.
Dax turned my head, his hands were cool compared to the heat of my skin. I felt the tip of something in my ear and the beep sounded like a cannon going off in my brain.
“Cold,” I said, pulling the blanket back up to my chin.
“You may be cold, Sam, but your body is burning up. We have to get your fever down.”
Before I could stop him, Dax lifted me off the bed and into his arms. I had no energy to fend him off or push him away. “If you get sick, I’m going to bug you to death and force food down you.”
“That would be sweet of you.”
“Sweet until I made you get up every few hours. It would get old really fast.”
“That depends on how you wake me up.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if you woke me up with your mouth on my cock, I’m sure I wouldn’t mind.”
“You’d be sick. No hanky panky when you’re sick.”
He’d carried me down the stairs and into the bathroom, the bright lights over the vanity had me squinting in pain. Slowly, he lowered me to stand in front of the toilet so he could get the water going in the tub.
“I don’t want a bath.”
“You can’t stand up for a shower, Sam. You’re tired and wiped out from the flu.”
“I hate being sick.”
“Who doesn’t, Sweetheart?” He had a point there. I didn’t know anyone who actually liked being sick. I mean I’d heard of hypochondriacs before, but I’d never met one.
“Just because I’m letting you help me doesn’t mean anything.” He looked at me blankly, like he had no idea what I was talking about. “Just because I’m letting you help me doesn’t mean I’m in love with you.”
He smiled. “I didn’t think you were in love with me, Samantha.”
“Well good. Because I’m not. You may be sexy as hell and good in bed, but that’s not love.”
His grin got even bigger. “I agree. That’s not love.”
I nodded my head and he started helping me out of my clothes. “Love is more than that.”
“It is.”
“Stop agreeing with me.”
“Why?”