Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Chapter 28 Presley

“Presley.”

When I wake up, I’m curled up on the floor at the foot of Lacey’s bed with my head resting on a stuffed teddy bear. I must have fallen asleep after the girls did. The room spins, so I screw my eyes shut again.

Dominic stands over me and places a hand on my forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“The girls,” I mumble.

“They’re fast asleep,” he says, looking over at their beds.

I sit up to see for myself, regretting it immediately. A rush of vomit rises, and when a bucket suddenly appears in my face, I let loose.

God. I haven’t thrown up since the first time I drank in college. I’d forgotten how awful the sensation is. Like being punched in the gut and drowned at the same time.

“I’m so sorry,” I mumble, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Dom disappears and comes back in seconds with a wet cloth and a glass of cold water. He wipes my mouth just like I did for his daughters. His eyes are filled with turmoil, and his expression is stark. I stare at him, soaking up every second of this tender moment.

“Here, take a sip,” he says.

I take the glass from his hands and sip. The water slides down my throat with the promise to come right back up later. Yep, not doing that again.

After taking the glass out of my hands, he carefully lifts me from the floor and carries me toward his bedroom.

I shake my head. “Just let me stay with them. I already have it. I don’t want to infect your room too.”

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even pause in his strides. He just keeps carrying me down the hall until we reach the master bedroom.

He sets me down on the edge of his massive bed. “You’ll stay in here.”

“But what about the guest room?” I ask.

“You’ll stay in here,” he says again, more firmly this time. Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

I nod, feeling dizzy.

Dominic pauses, appraising me as I slump over the edge of the bed. “Do you want to change into something more comfortable?”

When he glances at the jeans I’d quickly changed into before coming, I nod, realizing he’s right.

“Let me find something that might fit,” he says, already heading toward his massive walk-in closet.

After returning with a pair of cashmere sweatpants and a white cotton T-shirt, Dominic helps me remove my clothes—which is a good thing because my limbs feel so heavy that I doubt I could maneuver out of them on my own, and slides the soft cotton over my skin.

He turns his back while I unhook my bra and fish it out through the sleeve of the shirt. Then he gathers my clothes and takes them to the closet.

When he comes back to me, he holds a glass of water to my lips again. “A little more.”

I groan, but I know he’s right. I have to stay hydrated. I can’t act like a toddler when he has two actual toddlers sleeping in the other room. I drink some more, but the room flip-flops, and I sink back into the bed with a groan.

He sits down next to me, careful to put a little distance between us. I’m grateful for it. If he gets any closer, I’ll probably cling to him, and then there won’t be anyone left to take care of the sick people.

“It’s okay,” he says, reading my expression. “I juiced up with some vitamin C packs on the way here.”

“Yeah?” I ask weakly.

“Yeah. I’m going to be fine. I’m invincible.” He grins.

I feel like laughing, but I know the effort would likely make me vomit again. I’ve already done that once in front of the most attractive man I’ve ever met . . . I could do without a second round.

Surprising me, he lies down next to me. “Thank you for being here,” he says softly in my ear.

I can’t bear to turn and look at him for fear of losing any more of my goddamn breakfast in his beautiful face. “Some help I’ve been,” I groan.

I should have listened to Fran and not touched the girls. But the looks on their faces when I first arrived . . . they were so scared and tired. I had to show them that they would be taken care of.

“They’re fast asleep and their fevers have broken. You’ve been more than helpful,” he murmurs.

I can feel his gaze glued to my face. I’m flushed and damp with sweat, but not in the sexy fuck me kind of way. I don’t feel self-conscious, though. I feel safe.

“I should thank you for being here,” I mutter, my eyes sinking closed.

“You’re welcome.”

Was that a kiss I felt on my temple?

Dom, you can’t tell me not to fall in love with you and then be like . . . this. You can’t expect me not to feel anything for the man who has given me the world, from a ridiculous salary when I’m at my best, to tiny sips of water when I’m at my worst.

You can’t expect that, because I’m already in love . . .

With a man who isn’t capable of returning my feelings.