Sir's Redemption (Doms of Decadence Book 8) Page 13

  He frowned. “It’s quite cool in here. You’re just burning up with fever. I need to get you out of those clothes.”

  “You’re mistaking me with one of those other women.” How, she didn’t know. They all looked perfect, and she was a mess.

  “I told you, none of them have ever been up here. This is my personal space. One I don’t share.”

  “So why am I here?”

  He stared down at her. “Because you’re different.”

  “I’m not certain that’s a good thing,” she said slowly.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Good. Because neither am I.”

  Then he placed his palm over her forehead. “I don’t have a thermometer to take your temperature.” He sounded irritated. That was understandable. She’d vomited in front of him, forcing him to carry her up here, where she’d invaded his private space.

  She attempted to sit, shocked by how much effort it took to move. Yep, getting home was going to suck.

  “What do you think you’re doing? Lie still.” The strong command made her freeze, then she shook off the need to obey him. He wasn’t her Dom. He was her boss. Yeah, she had to obey him in some things. But not this.

  “I think I better go home.”

  He ran his hand over his face. Then he nodded. “If that’s what you really want, of course I can take you home. Do you have someone to look after you? Take you to the doctor if necessary? I’m going to send my driver out for a thermometer. Would you wait until it comes so I can check your temperature?”

  He’d send his driver out for a thermometer? Wow. They lived such different lives. But the look on his face was genuine. He seemed to actually care. And she didn’t have anyone else to call on to help her. That hurt.

  “Kinley? Is there someone I can call to meet us at your place?”

  “I’m not that ill. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” But it would be nice to think someone cared enough to want to.

  He frowned slightly. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone while you’re ill. Will you stay here? I promise I just want to take care of you.”

  “Why?” She felt bewildered, uncertain, and desperately certain she was missing something. Maybe if she wasn’t feeling ill and foggy with fatigue she could have worked it out on her own. She needed him to tell her what she was missing.

  A strange look crossed his face. “I’m not really sure. But I won’t rest knowing you’re sick and on your own. What if you try to use the bathroom, then slip and hurt yourself? I’d have to live with the guilt of knowing I could have prevented that by taking care of you. If it makes you feel any better, I could take you home and stay with you there.”

  Nope, she really didn’t need him in her tiny studio apartment. She sighed. She knew when she was being manipulated. She also knew she was going to let him. Because truth was, she didn’t feel like being on her own.

  “All right, I’ll stay. For the moment, anyway.”

  “Thank you.”

  James made the arrangements quickly. He called his driver, who didn’t complain at all about being interrupted at this time of night, and why should he considering James paid him a full wage and barely used him, to get a thermometer along with a list of things James had put together.

  He couldn’t really think of a time he’d cared for someone who was sick. Sloan had always been the one to care for Sarah when she’d gotten ill. James had always been away or too busy. Guilt stabbed at him.

  It was his fault they’d fallen apart. His fault they’d been betrayed. He could understand her betrayal of him. He could understand her anger. But it was the way she’d treated Sloan he’d never forget. Or forgive.

  He stopped outside the bedroom door, a T-shirt in hand, and really thought about what he was doing. She didn’t know him. Not really. And she wouldn’t like him if she did. But she probably didn’t like him much anyway. He wasn’t exactly a nice guy to be around.

  He didn’t know how to care for her. Not in all the ways a woman needed a man. He could be her Dominant, her lover, but could he be her man? Hadn’t he always left it to Sloan to make it to anniversary dinners, to be there when Sarah needed a hug or someone to lean on. Hadn’t he left it to Sloan to do the day-to-day stuff like listen to her about her day or make her dinner? He didn’t know how to cook. But he could order out. He could delegate more to free up his time.

  He could do this. He would do this. Because he wanted her. More than he’d ever wanted someone.

  He opened the door and leapt for her as she nearly collapsed at his feet.

  “Kinley.” He managed to catch her before she hit the floor but slipped down onto his knees in the process, so she ended up in his lap. He stared down into her flushed face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She scowled. “I was trying to get up.”

  “Why? I told you if you needed the bathroom to call me. Do you feel ill?” He tightened his hold around her, ready to stand and rush her into the bathroom. Not that he cared if she vomited everywhere, but he only had one spare bedroom. There was no way she’d be sleeping in the living room. That left his bedroom. A rush of possessiveness filled him at the thought of having her in his bed.

  “And that thought doesn’t fill me with embarrassment, not at all. God, you’re my boss. You can’t be helping me to the bathroom.”

  “Do you need to go?” He softened his voice. He got that she was embarrassed. They didn’t know each other well. That was to be expected. For now. In the future, she’d learn there would be nothing that was sacred. He would know everything about her. He had to. That was just the way it worked for him. Trust didn’t come easy. There were only two people he’d ever trusted. And of those, one was dead, and the other never wanted to see him again.

  “No. Yes.” Tears welled in her eyes, and consternation filled him. He didn’t like that she was upset. He let out a sigh. It was difficult for him to push aside his own needs to protect and care for her and think this through rationally.

  She didn’t trust him. She was weak and vulnerable and sick. What would make her feel better? What could he give her?

  He wasn’t letting her go home alone. That was for certain. She needed care. She was stubborn. He also knew how reluctant she was to bother people. Like her boyfriend when her car broke down. He’d need to break her of that.

  If he let her go home, she’d no doubt try to take on everything herself. That wasn’t happening.

  “You’re really miserable, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he said sympathetically.

  “Yes.” She sniffled pathetically. “My stomach is sick. I’m all hot and gross. I know I’m squishing you right now only I’m too tired to move. And I really have to pee.” That last word was pretty much a wail, and he had to bite back a grin at how disgruntled she sounded. He didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her. Besides, what she’d said was not a laughing matter.

  “First of all, you are definitely not squishing me. Why you seem to think you’re so big, I don’t know, but that’s going to stop.”

  “You sound like—" She bit her sentence off, looking away. Her shoulders had tightened.

  “Like who?” he asked quietly. “Your boyfriend?”

  She shrugged.

  He breathed out a sigh of irritation. “Kinley when I ask a question I expect a verbal response.”

  She turned to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise. But there was also a hint of recognition. Of understanding.

  Hmm. Her boyfriend wasn’t a Dom. Of that he was damn sure. But perhaps there had been a Dom in her past. But what kind of self-respecting Dominant would let her go? Unless he’d just trained her. If he had, James wasn’t certain her training was that thorough. He could remedy that, though.

  Surprisingly he found himself looking forward to that. He hadn’t trained anyone since Sarah. Hadn’t taken a sub since her. He hadn’t wanted the responsibility of a sub again. Until Kinley. Being her Dom would be more than just dominating her during sex. It meant more than just giving her p
leasure. It meant taking care of her. Watching over her. Putting her first. Always.

  He’d taken note of the fact she hadn’t given him a list of people willing to look after her earlier when he’d offered to call someone for her.

  Sympathy filled him. He knew what it was like to have no one but he was an asshole who pushed people away. He didn’t want anyone close. Or at least he hadn’t in the past.

  Kinley was sweet and kind. She should have dozens of people she could call on to help her. So why didn’t she? Was it because of that asshole boyfriend?

  She squirmed on his lap, bringing him back to her current predicament. He slid her off his lap then stood, reaching down he pulled her up into his arms.

  “James!”

  “Do not,” he warned her. “I’m going easy on you because you’re not well. But I do have a limit and I don’t want to hear anything derogatory about your beautiful body.”

  She was silent, and he glanced down to see her staring up at him, wide-eyed. He gave her a firm look before setting her down next to the toilet in the spacious guest bathroom.

  “Do you need help with your clothes?” he asked politely.

  “No,” she squeaked, grabbing at the waistband of her worn jeans as though she expected him to snatch them off her.

  He turned to hide his grin. Funny how often he had to do that around her. Not something he’d done that much in the last few years.

  “Um, can you give me some privacy?”

  No. He sighed. Stop being an ass.

  “I’ll wait just outside the door. Call if you need me.”

  “Pretty sure I can wipe my butt on my own,” she muttered. “And even if I couldn’t, I wouldn’t call you.”

  He was certain she didn’t mean for him to hear any of that. Nevertheless, he turned at the door to look at her, one eyebrow raised. “Honey, I’ve been wiping my own ass for years. Pretty sure I can manage to take care of yours.”

  Her eyes went wide then she pointed at the door, her finger shaking. “Go. Now.” Smart enough to know when he’d pushed too far, he left.

  She couldn’t believe this. It definitely had to be one of the more surreal situations she’d ever ended up in. When she was finished on the toilet, she cleaned herself up, thank you very much, then made her way to the sink to wash her hands. She wobbled a little, her legs feeling far too weak to hold her up. Leaning against the counter, she stared at herself in the mirror.

  Wow. She really did look like crap. She cupped some water in her hands and threw it over her face, ignoring the way it splattered on her smock and shirt. Wasn’t like she was trying to impress anyone. Nope, that boat had definitely sailed.

  There was a knock on the door, and she jumped, whacking her knee against the solid wooden cabinet door with a groan.

  The door opened suddenly. “Kinley, what is it? What happened?”

  “Nothing,” she said through clenched teeth, trying to convince herself the throbbing in her knee wasn’t that bad and that breaking down and sobbing like a baby in front of her boss—even if her boss seemed overly interested in her life—really wouldn’t be a good idea.

  “I can see I’m going to need to rid you of the idea that you can lie to your Dom,” he muttered quietly. Or, in her delusional state, that’s what she thought he said. But he couldn’t have. Because he wasn’t her Dom, she didn’t have a Dom anymore, and that ache was deep and painful. More painful than any banged knee could ever be.

  He walked over and picked her up once more. This time she didn’t even bother protesting. She was exhausted. She just wanted to curl into a ball and sob over the mess her life was.

  He placed her back on the bed. But when she went to lay back, he grabbed hold of her shoulders. “Hold up, I need to get you out of these clothes. I brought you a shirt of mine to wear.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Hey.” He caught it up. “What’s this?”

  She sniffled. “Nothing.”

  He grasped her chin, raising her face so she was forced to look up at him. Then he just waited, and she knew he’d continue waiting until she answered.

  “I’m just feeling sorry for myself,” she admitted. “I feel awful, my head hurts, my stomach is raw, I’m tired, and now my knee throbs.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “You banged your knee?”

  “You gave me a fright, yet again.”

  He shook his head. “Come on, you’ll feel better once you’ve got all these clothes off and are in bed.”

  A buzzing noise filled the room. “That will be Rick with your stuff. Get changed and get into bed. Don’t try to stand up and walk, though.”

  She bit back the urge to salute him. Somehow, she didn’t think he would find that amusing.

  It took her trembling hands longer than it should have to undo all the buttons on her shirt. Why had she worn a button-up shirt anyway? Stupid idea.

  “Maybe because you haven’t done laundry in days and you’re running out of clothes,” she muttered.

  After taking her shirt off she pulled his on, and his scent instantly surrounded her. The shirt was clean, there was the soft scent of laundry detergent, but it still felt too intimate, wearing his T-shirt. And she immediately grabbed the bottom, prepared to pull it off and sleep in her grubby shirt, but a knock on the door interrupted her.

  “Are you in bed?”

  “Nearly,” she called back, standing. She obviously moved too quickly, because her head swam, and she had to lean her hands on the mattress to steady herself.

  She took a few shallow breaths then managed to stand and pull back the covers on the bed. She half-climbed, half-fell onto the mattress. As she lay sprawled, trying to find the energy to get herself fully into the bed, James walked in.

  He didn’t say anything; he just grabbed her legs and gently placed them on the bed then pulled the covers up. He used the other pillow to prop up behind her before sitting so he faced her, his thigh against hers.

  She shivered slightly. He frowned. “You’re cold.”

  “I seem to be hot then cold.” Funny, after lying down she felt even worse. Maybe it was the adrenaline leaving her or something, but she just wanted to lay there in misery. Alone.

  This was not the way she wanted her boss to see her. Especially when her boss was one of the hottest, most successful men she’d ever met.

  He grabbed something out of the bag he’d been carrying, frowning down at the box that held a brand-new thermometer.

  “Please don’t tell me you bought that just for me.”

  He snorted. “I’m not the one who’s ill. I wonder if a rectal thermometer would have been better, though? Don’t they give more accurate readings?”

  She shivered at the image of him baring her ass and pressing a thermometer deep inside her. She suddenly realized James was quiet and looked up at him to find him studying her carefully.

  “Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. “I expected an instant refusal, but, instead, you look intrigued.”

  Chagrin filled her. “I do not look intrigued. This is a look of horror. No way you’re sticking anything near my butt.”

  He grinned. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a terrible liar, sweetheart?”

  Constantly.

  She sniffed but moved her head to one side so he could place the thermometer into her ear. There was a beep and he pulled it back, staring down at her.

  “103,” he said. “You, young lady, are very ill.”

  Yeah, that’s pretty much what she’d figured.

  Truthfully, she wasn’t certain she could move if her life depended on it.

  He was pulling stuff out of the bag. Her eyes widened as she saw the wide range of cold and flu medicine. “Did you order everything in the store?”

  He stared down at the stuff. “Too much?”

  It was complete overkill, but there was something almost vulnerable in his voice. Something that said the wrong answer might hurt him.

  Of course, she did have a 103-degree temperature, so she could just be imagining stuff
. “It’s great,” she told him gently. She reached over and daringly grabbed hold of his hand. She realized that up until this point she hadn’t shown much gratitude. “Thank you so much for doing this. For helping me. I hope I don’t give you whatever it is I’ve got.”

  “You won’t. I very rarely get ill. Good immune system. Although you might not thank me when you realize I’ve never taken care of someone who’s sick.”

  “Never?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Well, this beats going home to my apartment alone. And that’s after taking the bus then walking four blocks in the dark.”

  He frowned at her fiercely. “You walk alone in the dark?”

  Whoops. If she’d been thinking more clearly, she probably wouldn’t have mentioned that titbit.

  “Got to get home somehow.”

  “Why doesn’t that boyfriend of yours pick you up?”

  “We aren’t together anymore.”

  “Did you find out about the cheating?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He swore under his breath. “I thought you knew.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “He was seeing someone else?” Her brain was trying to tell her something was off. There was something she was missing. But all she could think about was Sloan sleeping with someone else. The pain stabbed deep and hard. “I never thought he’d cheat on me.”

  He placed his other hand over hers. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But you’re too good for him anyway.” She didn’t think so. She thought he was way out of her league.

  “I wish I wasn’t the one to tell you. But it’s a good thing.”

  Good? “You think it’s good we broke up? Why? Because you want me to be miserable?” Was he really that much of a jerk?

  “Why the hell would I want that?”

  “I just . . . well, I wasn’t certain you liked me all that much.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Don’t know how to read men very well, do you, sweetheart?”

  Nope, not at all. And she had no idea what he was trying to say.

  He sighed. Then let out a small laugh, rubbing his hand over his face. “I meant that obviously something was wrong if you broke things off.”