He looked at her, she was speaking briskly into her phone again. Some other poor soul was at the mercy of her efficiency. He was beyond even trying to listen. All he wanted was to rip the gadget from her and press his mouth to hers—just to shut her up. Just to slake the lust. So damn irresistible. So damn impossible. For one thing he was harbouring a million nasty bugs in his throat, for another she just wasn’t his type. Not at all. Not when he was on form.
But he felt an almost feral need to touch her—had done since the second he’d first seen her looking so snippy out the back of the warehouse. He wanted to muss her up so bad he wanted to growl.
Sick. He really was sick.
‘Okay, that’s everything settled, then.’
‘You’re going?’ Oh, man. He grimaced. Where had that sound of disappointment come from?
She paused. ‘You didn’t think I was going to stay, did you? I’ve got other things to do. And you said it yourself, Lorenzo—you don’t need a mother, or any kind of sympathy.’
‘So you’re going to leave me here at the mercy of some stranger?’ He opted to try to wheedle. Thinking on it, he’d rather have her here than some nurse—even if she was a little too efficient for his liking. Did she never stop and slow down? She should slow down—he’d make her. Give it to her really, really slow. Bend her back and lick all the way up her gorgeous length until she… Hell, his eyes were probably glazing over. He shut them tight. It made the fantasy worse. It made the aching in his gut worse.
On seconds thoughts, the sooner Sophy left, the better.
‘She’s very well qualified and has great references,’ Sophy said—oblivious to the base nature of his thoughts. ‘She’ll get you right again.’
‘I do not need a damn nursemaid.’ What was she going to do all day? He’d had the pills, now he just needed to sleep until it was time to take more. The last thing he wanted was some woman poking round his apartment. He never let women poke around. He liked his privacy—the peace in isolation.
‘Your temperature is sky-high. Until it’s down and the antibiotics have kicked in, then you are not being left alone. We’re talking twenty-four hours or less, Lorenzo. Get over it.’
He opened his mouth. Shut it again. He hadn’t been given orders quite like that in years.
‘Now you need to rest. The nurse will be here in twenty. She’s bringing more medicine with her.’
Enough was enough. He wasn’t putting up with this for a moment longer. He put his feet on the ground and hauled himself up.
‘Lorenzo.’ Sophy’s heart lurched. She moved fast.
His eyes were closed and the frown on his face was heightened by his extreme pallor. His whole body was covered in a film of sweat but he shivered again. She wrapped her arm around him—felt every single muscle in his body go tense. Sophy bit her lip. The sooner the nurse got here, the better.
‘I’m fine.’ The anger surged in his voice. Directed at both her and himself. He was furious with his weakness.
‘And I’m the Queen of Atlantis.’
‘This is ridiculous. I’m hardly at death’s door. It’s a sore throat.’ But he sat back down all the same, put his feet up this time and scrunched more into the sofa, lying shivering beneath the rug. His teeth were tightly clenched—to stop them chattering or because he was so mad? Probably both.
Sophy was definitely staying ‘til the nurse arrived now. She sat in the chair across from the sofa. Keeping a wary eye on him and sneaking interested glances round his apartment. The space was gorgeous—huge and light. The kitchen was modern—had all the lovely stainless steel appliances a gourmet home cook could ever want. There was a massive shelving system on one wall—filled with books, CDs, DVDs. She leaned close to look at the titles, even though she knew she was being nosy.
She glanced at her watch. Shouldn’t be long now ‘til the nurse arrived. He’d gone very quiet. Was he asleep? Quietly she moved back to the sofa, bent so she could see his face.
His jet-black hair was just slightly too long—as if he’d missed his last appointment with the barber—and right now it was a tousled mess. It was gorgeous—just begging for fingers to tunnel into it. And his features were beautiful. His eyelashes were annoyingly long while the shadow on his angular cheek tempted her to touch. And then there was his mouth. In the heart of his chiselled jaw were the most sensual lips she’d ever seen. Full, gently curved, slightly parted as he slept. The shivering seemed to have eased. Had his temperature dropped? She put her palm on his forehead again.