Holding Strong

Ducking her face against him, Cherry said, “That’s exactly how I felt, too. As to you pushing me...” She shivered, remembering. “I liked it.”

She felt his smile when he kissed her temple. “I know you did. But you’ll like it more when you’re feeling like yourself.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “There’s still a lot I want to do to you.”

Oh Lord. Not with her, but to her? How was she supposed to breathe normally when he said things like that?

For Denver, it sounded like everything was sexual. It thrilled her to finally make some headway—but what she felt was so much more.

He rubbed his hand down her back toward her bottom—but stopped short. “Soon as you’re well, we’ll try this all again.” His lips teased her ear, and he whispered, “When you can take it, I’ll make you beg.”

Wow. As unnerving as that sounded, she could hardly wait.

His fist under her chin tipped up her burning face. “Far as I’m concerned, there’s no end date in sight.” He searched her eyes, then focused on her mouth. “You okay with that?”

She’d been hung up on Denver Lewis from the day she’d laid eyes on him and every day since she’d fallen harder. If he asked her to marry him right now, she’d probably say yes.

Instead, he wanted unlimited sex, and the answer was still a resounding, “Yes.”

“Good.” He tucked her hair back, then leaned away to see her body. “You’re shivering again.”

With nervousness, excitement, and yes, fever. The way he’d cooled her down had helped, but not for long.

He pulled off his shirt—a treat no matter how sick she might be—and kicked off his shoes, then crawled into bed beside her and hugged her up to his warm chest. “Better?”

Heavenly. “Yes.”

“Doze off if you want.” Stretching out his long legs and then reaching for the remote, he got comfortable with the TV on low. “I’ll wake you when Armie gets back.”

Tired as she was, she didn’t think she’d be able to sleep. Not with her head feeling like it might explode off her body and her throat getting scratchier by the second. “Could we chat some more?” By chat, she meant her resting against him while he shared details of his life.

“About what?”

So many things. “Tell me about your family.”

“Already did. Dad’s a doctor.”

The way he summed that up, to the point of being curt, made her wonder. Did he have a bad relationship with his dad? “You mentioned a stepmother?”

“Yeah. Dad remarried years ago.”

Curling up next to him, her cheek on his bare chest, his arm around her, felt more comforting than meds ever could. The heat of his body seemed to permeate her aching muscles, and his scent wrapped around her. When she rested a hand over his abdomen, the incredible muscles there tightened. “How old were you?”

“Nineteen.” Covering her hand with his own, he moved his thumb over her knuckles. “You are so soft.”

Changing the subject again? “You like your stepmother?”

Silence stretched out while Denver played with her fingers. She didn’t rush him. If he chose not to answer, she’d let it go.

She knew all about family issues better kept private.

Then he said, “Dad loves her. I figure that’s what’s important.”

She turned her face up to see him. “You don’t get along with her?” Given Denver was so wonderful, she couldn’t imagine anyone not loving him.

Again, he took his time thinking. Finally he pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “It’s complicated.” After a quick hug and a kiss on the top of her head, he promised, “We’ll have plenty of time to talk when you’re feeling better. It’s late. You should sleep.”

She didn’t want to, but lethargy pulled at her. Soon as Denver tucked the sheet around her, she felt herself slipping away.

Sometime later, more sluggish than ever, she woke to whispering and realized Armie was back. While trying to orient herself, she heard a low, angry conversation on relatives.

If anything, she felt worse now, bad enough that she didn’t even care what they talked about. Pulling the covers over her head, she groaned, “Thanks Armie. Now go away please.”

He didn’t leave, of course. In fact, she sensed when both men came to loom over her. The testosterone ramped up enough to strangle her.

Armie crouched down by her shrouded head. “How you feelin’, doll?”

She curled a little tighter to ensure he wouldn’t unwrap her. “Bad enough I don’t want anyone to see me.”

A big, warm hand settled on her shoulder—Armie.

She was still adjusting to the impact of that when another hand settled on her hip—Denver.

Good Lord.

Her heart almost stopped. Were they trying to kill her with their combined machismo?

One large, hunky guy focused on her was enough. The two combined left her shivering with awareness. Though she wanted only Denver, they were both studs and she wasn’t used to anything even close to this. Beneath the concealing covers, she squeezed her eyes shut—and since she had no idea what to do, she played possum.

Until both men’s hands sympathetically squeezed, rubbed...

Surprise wrought a groan that ended in a rasping cough.

“Move,” she heard Denver say, and a second later he’d pulled the covers to her waist, leaving her hideous hair and smudged makeup exposed. At least they’d kept the lights low, giving her shadows to hide in.

Denver helped her to sit up while giving her a drink of cold juice.

She needed the drink—but he’d pulled the sheet so low that snatching it back up seemed her first priority. Once she’d preserved her modesty, she accepted the drink.

So very aware of Armie standing there, taking it all in, seeing her in such a mess, she wanted to wither. But the juice eased the pain of her throat so she ignored her awful embarrassment and drank it all.

When she’d finished, Denver smoothed down her hair. “Let’s get you started on some meds.”

She seriously hated being babied so much. Never, ever, had she been the center of so much attention. “I can do it. You should go home with Armie.”

Grinning at her, Armie said, “Damn, Cherry, way to insult a guy.”

Tone level but uncompromising, Denver said, “I’m not going anywhere.” He opened two different pill bottles and some cough medicine.

“You don’t need to be stuck here.”