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“We’re doing this.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. Two sets of eyes connected with me for a moment, and without a word, we agreed.
Rosa was ours.
“I’ll go get a cold towel, and her soup should be ready. Can you wake her up and take her temp?” Jett asked, and I nodded.
“I’ll grab some medicine. Should I call a doctor?”
“Let’s see how the medicine helps, and we will go from there. Maybe call Silver just to have him on standby. Let him know what’s going on and see if there is anything he might recommend.” Dr. Joshua Silver was a friend of ours we’d met at Club Sin. He was great at what he did, and discreet.
“Sounds good.” Casey left, but Jett stood there, and when our eyes locked, I swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I was an asshole earlier.”
“What’s new?” He shrugged, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. His gaze dropped and looked at a sleeping Rosa. I could see the worry in his eyes. “Her niece and nephew were sick all week. Maybe she picked up what they had?”
“Probably.” I nodded. “Then add in the mess she had to clean up thanks to Cooper and that cleaning company that didn’t have space today, and she wore herself out.”
“Why are you talking about me like I’m not here?” she sniffled. Just then, I watched her eyes flutter open. I could tell she was a little disoriented. “Why am I in your bed?”
“We’re taking care of you,” Jett shared and stepped in without hesitation. He moved closer and sat on the other side of her. She looked at both of us.
“Why, umm…” She swallowed and grimaced. “Why are you taking care of me?”
“You have a fever, baby,” I gently told her. She opened and shut her mouth.
“My niece and?—"
“They were sick,” I cut her off. “Here, can you open your mouth and say ah?”
“Umm, why?”
“So I can check your temp,” I gently told her and reached for the thermometer on my nightstand.
“Oh.” She blushed adorably and did as she was told. I held her close in my arms, and even though she was still a little groggy but slowly coming to focus about the situation she was in, she didn’t move away from my hold in my bed. Our bed. My teeth smashed together as I tried to find some kind of semblance of control. The thermometer beeped, and I frowned at the three-digit number that glared back at me.
“That doesn’t look good,” Jett muttered and made a funny face at our baby girl to make her relax.
“How high is it?” she asked.
“A hundred and one point two.” I didn’t like her being sick.
“Not terrible.”
“But it's not good either. Come on.” I stood up and carefully picked her up and set her down. “We need to take this off.” Without waiting for her to reach for the hem of the sweater she was wearing, I pulled it up and over her head, tossing it on the ground behind her.
“Oh, umm…” My eyes skated down to see her in the sweetest, sexiest nightshirt. It was a soft cream color with black trim. And it was obvious she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Braless, her tits looked like the fucking juiciest offering to the gods.
“Fuck! Do you wear this kind of shit every night?” The words sounded brusque to even my own ears. When my eyes connected with hers, I knew I had hurt her feelings.
“It’s just pajamas. Umm, I should go back to my room.” She tried to move around me, but my hands had a mind of their own and held her waist, keeping her in front of me.
“Mal.” Jett’s warning was clear, but they were right earlier.
We were done fucking around and waiting.
Why the hell had I put us through this kind of torture? My eyes dropped to her collarbone. Her skin was a golden brown with a slight tinge of pink that drifted beneath the cotton material of her nightgown.
“You look fucking pretty in this, baby girl.”
