Page 137 of Black Light: Cured

with her flits through my mind, but I just can’t. There are still so many variables to contend with, too

many unknowns between us. If only it were as easy as choosing her.

Forcing out those thoughts, I close my eyes and tell every muscle in my body to relax. It’s hard,

almost impossible. I’m never really in a position to relax and being sick is not the way I want it to

happen. Besides, even when I’m not feeling my best, there’s still work to be done.

All too soon, she’s back, a steaming mug in her hand. “As much as I hate the sterile nature of your

house, it sure does make things easier to find. Here, sip on this. The soup is simmering. When you’re

done, it should be ready. Your housekeeper and cook are here, and they checked over the food just in

case I poisoned it or something. Your cook really doesn't like people mucking about in his kitchen,

does he?” Once I grab the mug, she crosses her arms and sighs as if my staff are the biggest

inconvenience of her life.

It’s a sentiment I’ve never felt, but then they’re working in their capacity while I work in mine.

They’ve never been underfoot. Giving her a soft smile, I shake my head. “He does not.”

“Too bad. I wanted to serve my man, and I really hope you feel better.” She leans down and skims

her lips across my forehead, and for a moment, I desperately want her to stay. I’m not normally the

type of guy to have ‘man flu,’ but as she turns to leave the bathroom I realize I still want to wrap her

up in my arms and snuggle with her as I sleep off this cold.

The nights I sleep the best are the nights when her head is on my chest, her wild hair tickling my

nose, splayed out across my body. I feel empty when she’s not here and, honestly, that’s telling of how

deeply I’ve become invested in this relationship.

Fear of the unknown pulses through me, and I wonder if I’ll eventually have to break things off

before either of us get hurt. But I desperately hope it won’t come to that.

I just can’t get my mind and my body on the same page about ‘forever.’

My heart pounds in my chest, and I long to beg her to come back, to stay, but I know I can’t ask

that of her. I don’t want to risk getting her sick too, even if it’s something as simple as a cold. I stare

at the sway of her ass as she leaves the room, holding back a groan of longing.

“Text me if you need anything. I’m serious,” she calls out, sticking her head back into the

bathroom for a moment. “Make sure you rinse off after soaking. The cook will tell you when it’s time

to come out. Just sleep today and you’ll feel better tomorrow. Your cough syrup is on your nightstand,

but I trust you to hold up your end of the bargain.”