His eyes gleam. “You’re still obsessed with food.”
“And you look like you’ve given up on it.”
His expression turns mournful and dark and he looks away. “Giving up is surprisingly easy when you have nothing left in life to look forward to.”
My heart weeps. I cup his face and compel his attention back to me. “Don’t say that, Quinn.”
He heaves a sigh and lays his hand over mine to imprison it against his cheek. He falls asleep that way. I watch him breathe, dream. Knowing that the love I confessed three months ago outside the loft, still burns as bright.
I must fall asleep too. I jerk awake to the sound of fresh vomiting. But this time, when I rush to his aid, he’s not crumbled on the floor. He stays on his feet throughout. And the bout lasts only a few minutes. When he tugs his clothes off and staggers into the shower, I follow.
“Are you okay?”
He nods, but his whole body is caught in relentless shudders. His hand slips when he tries to turn on the spray.
Without a second thought, I strip down to my panties and top and join him in the shower. If he hears me, he doesn’t make a move to acknowledge me. He just stands there with his forehead against the wall, his chest heaving.
I turn on the shower and wrap my arms around him. Hot water cascades over us, and after a few minutes, his shivering dies down enough for me to release him. I grab a washcloth and shower gel and bathe him from head to toe.#p#分页标题#e#
His cock stirs when I wash his groin and when his gaze catches mine, his mouth twitches.
That little smile gives me wild hope. He raises his arms and turns around to let me rinse him off.
When I’m done, he eyes my sodden top. “You’re wet.”
“Yep.”
I wait, a part of me wanting him to do something about it. But for the first time, I see hesitation in his eyes. I catch the hem of the shirt and tug it over my head. Wild eyes immediately land on my chest. He makes a pained sound at the back of his throat, but he still makes no move to grab me. I don’t know whether to be sad or impressed.
“No bra,” he states gruffly.
I shake my head. “Was in a hurry to get to the airport.”
He lifts one brow. I duck my head and quickly step out of my panties and rinse the transferred suds off my body. When I’m done he follows me out. The towel I intend to pass him stays clutched in my fist as I look him over. His body is still drop-jaw magnificent, but it’s suffered changes.
“You’ve lost weight, Quinn. I don’t like it.”
A twinge of emotion passes over his face. “I couldn’t…didn’t want to live. Not without…” Wary eyes meet mine. “Elyse…”
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to take the pills. You’re going to eat. You’re going to get better. Then we’ll talk about us. Do you want there to be an us, Quinn?”
His nostrils quiver as he takes in a huge breath. “More than I want my next heartbeat.”
My lips purse. My eyes drop to his elbow, the almost invisible scars I noticed when I washed him. “See, that’s the thing. I want you to want your next heartbeat. So hearing you say that makes my heart ache. It also makes me mad.”
He frowns for a sec. “Okay.”
“What does that mean, okay?”
His eyes sizzle where they’re riveted on my chest. “It means let’s get the fuck out of this bathroom and get some clothes on before this hard on kills me.”
My eyes drop to the killer erection he’s sporting and shocked laughter bursts out of me.
Okay, so Alpha Quinn isn’t quite down and out.
I hand him the towel. His movements are a little slow, but he dries himself off just fine. He takes the pills I pass him and we head to his dressing room. He pulls on shorts and hands me one of his T-shirts.
We fall back into bed and he’s asleep in minutes. I take the time he’s sleeping to check messages and call Vancouver to let them know I’ve arrived and will be staying for an indeterminate period. In the kitchen, I find boxed up ready meals in the fridge that I missed before in my agitation. I heat up pasta and sauce, grate Parmesan over it and set out the meal on a tray.
Quinn is up, staring the screen when I return to the bedroom. He turns it off when I walk in, but his gaze searches mine.
“What?” I ask as I set the tray on his lap.
He nods to the TV. “You saw what I was watching.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you mad?” he asks warily.
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Why were you watching it?”
He catches hold of my wrist and rubs his thumb across my pulse. “I want to see you. All the time,” he whispers fervidly. “You probably want me to get rid of it, but I…can’t.”