“Were you in love with him?” His gaze was wary but, he seemed braced to hear the truth from her.
“I idolized him,” she replied honestly. “I feel a tremendous amount of loyalty to him. But I didn’t love him. My heart belongs to you, Ben. All you have to do is speak to me in that smooth, steely tone and I turn into butter.”
“I like the sound of that.” He seemed satisfied as he looked up at her. “Right now, you need your sleep.” He pulled her down and turned so he lay on his side and cuddled her up to him. Whether they were entwined together like this, or if he ever decided to train formally as a Dom, she felt safe in his care. Sheltered.
Chapter Twenty
Quinten stood at the counter, sleepily pouring himself a cup of coffee while Ben stood in front of the stove, placing strips of bacon in the skillet, wondering whether to make Camilla pancakes or scrambled eggs. Quinten yawned loudly, and Ben asked, “What time did you get in?” He’d been wrapped up with Camilla all night, deeply asleep, and hadn’t heard Quinten when he’d come home.
“Late. You and Camilla were conked out. Do you know if she’s made an appointment with her doctor yet?”
“She did. She’s seeing Emma later this week. Why?”
“She’s been pale the last few mornings when she wakes up. I noticed she’s really warm this morning.”
Ben smiled. “She tends to run just a little hot when she’s sleeping. She hasn’t said anything about feeling bad, has she?”
“No.”
“Your parents are coming in this weekend, aren’t they?”
“Yeah. Mom said they’d arrive early Friday morning. I thought we’d put them in the bigger guest bedroom.”
“Sounds great.”
Ben heard the sound of water running in the bathroom, and a minute or two later, he heard the sound of her shuffling into the kitchen. Camilla wasn’t necessarily a morning person, but even Ben noticed her drawn appearance as she went into Quinten’s arms.
Quinten’s brow creased as he looked at Ben over her head. “Baby? You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just really tired.”
Ben pressed the back of his hand to her brow. “You feel warm. I hope you’re not coming down with anything.”
She gave Ben a halfhearted smile and went to him for a hug. She yawned sleepily as they stood there, and he repositioned her slightly so that he could check the bacon, which was beginning to curl up and sizzle. She stiffened in his arms, and for a second he was afraid the hot grease had popped her. Then he saw her distressed face.
“You okay, sugar?” His alarm grew as her eyes bulged, and she clapped her hand over her mouth and fled from the room.
He stood there in the kitchen, holding a pair of tongs in numb fingers as the bacon fried. The earth ceased to spin for that moment in time. He came back to awareness when something hot splashed on his bare foot. Quinten’s coffee mug lay shattered on the tile floor where he must’ve dropped it. Ben hadn’t even heard the impact.
“Shit.” Quinten turned, shock evident on his face, and grabbed a dish towel to soak up the spilled coffee. “Um, should we go check on her?”
Ben blinked his eyes and shook his head to get focused. He took the skillet off the burner and turned off the stove, then rushed to the bedroom. They found her crouched over the toilet in the master bathroom.
“Sugar, you okay?”
Camilla shuddered, her face hidden behind her hair. She knelt on the floor in front of the toilet and held her face in her hands. “Uh-huh. Oh no—”
She heaved for another minute as Ben got a washcloth and soaked it in cold water. Quinten looked at him in the mirror’s reflection, worry on his face, and gathered her hair back from her face as she threw up until nothing could possibly remain.
She groaned as she flushed the toilet. “I do not have time to be sick.”
Ben and Quinten glanced at each other. Ben gave voice to his suspicion. “Sugar, do you think it’s possible—”
Her voice shook as though she was about to cry as she said, “Please don’t say it. I don’t want to go there unless I have to. I see the doctor on Thursday.”
Quinten frowned, but Ben silently nodded, trying to reassure them both. “That’s fine. I think you need to go back to bed.”
“No, I need to get ready for work.” She didn’t look capable of standing, much less working. Her face was still tilted down as she crouched in front of the toilet bowl.
He squatted beside her, and stroked the locks that had escaped Quinten’s grasp back from her face. Her brow was damp with perspiration, and her cheeks were wet with tears. “Sugar? Are you late?”