Page 51 of Precious Hazard (Perfectly Imperfect #11)

My palms glide over his rock-hard chest, then circle to his back, slowly exploring his glorious body.

Everything in me tingles with awareness.

My pussy is still tender from our unrestrained, frenzied sex earlier tonight, yet I’m aching for more.

Throbbing with the need to feel him. One circle over my clit, and I’m sure I would explode. Crumble like only he can make me.

But that’s not what I want right now. I want this. The slow movement of his fingers along my chin. His tongue, probing my mouth. That pleasant sensation at the base of my skull as he tunnels his way through my hair. That’s what I want. All those wonderful things. From him.

The need for this basic affection is strange, considering the volatile game of tug-of-war we’ve played since day one.

Nothing between the two of us has been easy.

Nothing except the undeniable pull both he and I feel.

There’s just no way to resist that kind of chemistry for long.

No matter how many times my mind tried to deny it, my heart recognized the lie.

I knew that eventually Arturo and I would end up in bed.

His or mine, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

We both would have surrendered to that intense physical magnetism.

But this, this moment right here, it doesn’t feel like plain sexual attraction.

It’s something else entirely. And I have no idea what.

Or maybe I do.

Going along with this farce of a marriage, I thought I was doing the right thing.

Sacrificing a year of my life for my family.

Fixing yet another of my endless fuckups.

Accepting a man who doesn’t love me. A dangerous man who blackmailed me.

A man who, outside of fucking, finds me lacking in every way that matters.

Just like all the previous men in my life have.

I thought I could do it. Could temporarily shove my dreams, my happiness aside.

Twelve months. Should hardly be an effort after a lifetime of not having what I crave.

A man who will treasure me above all others.

Love me more than himself. Despite my being a walking disaster , as Satan DeVille so eloquently labeled me.

But that’s my life. And regardless of the messes I’ve made in it, there’s one thing I’ve always been adamant about.

One thing that I promised myself. The one thing I would never screw up.

I’d only fall in love with a man who loves me back.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Because I managed to fuck that up, too.

“Hopefully, that’s enough.” The tip of my nose stings as I step out of Arturo’s embrace and shut off the water. “Let’s get you back to bed. The doctor should be here soon.”

***

“Good thinking, getting him into the shower.”

Blonde, sophisticated, and completely confident in herself, Ilaria sets down her stethoscope.

I look at Arturo, sprawled face down in my bed. He collapsed as soon as we got back from the bathroom, instantly falling asleep. It took me nearly ten minutes to wrangle his overgrown limbs into a T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, so he wouldn’t be “meeting” the doctor naked.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask, biting my thumbnail.

“Pneumonia. Most likely viral, but we’ll know for sure once I get the results of the lab tests. I am detecting symptomatic wheezing in his breathing. That’s a good indication of inflammation in his lungs.”

“Is that… bad?”

“Less bad than bacterial pneumonia. How long has he been coughing?”

“Um… about a week. Maybe two.”

“The antipyretic I injected him with will bring down his fever. I’ll send someone over in the morning with antiviral meds. They’ll help speed up his recovery.”

“Alright… What else?”

“Typically, with this type of pneumonia, the flu-like symptoms resolve on their own. He just needs rest, plenty of fluids, and good nutrition. Give him warm tea with lemon and honey for his throat. Homemade soup. And keep him in bed for the rest of the week, minimum. Don’t let him do any work.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“He got himself into this because he was irresponsible. He ignored his symptoms, then stuffed himself with over-the-counter drugs that did nothing but mask his condition until the infection escalated.” She shuts her medical bag with more force than she probably intended. “Men are idiots,” she adds.

I snort, then slam my palm over my mouth. It’s hard to believe that someone so… normal… mothered a merciless bastard like Salvatore Ajello.

“So, that’s it?” I ask. “He’ll be fine? What if his fever spikes again?”

“He can continue with ibuprofen for his aches and fever, if it returns. Have him take it every four to six hours. Cold shower, but only if absolutely necessary. Also, you should distance yourself for a few days. Staff, too. With viral pneumonia, Arturo will still be contagious until he starts feeling better and is fever-free.”

Yeah. Considering our carnal encounters, it’s far too late for me to play it safe. “Well, if I haven’t gotten sick by now, I’m probably okay.”

“If you do start experiencing symptoms, call me immediately.” Ilaria rises and collects her cashmere coat from the recliner.

“I’ll see myself out.” On the other side of the room, she pauses at the door.

“You know, when I got the call just after two in the morning, I was certain I’d be digging a bullet out of someone.

Pneumonia, though… I’d take that over a gunshot wound any day. ”

The moment she leaves, I climb onto the bed next to Arturo. He looks much better than he did an hour ago. Which means I could probably get some sleep. Lying down next to him, I press my lips to his forehead. Still hot. But not as bad. Snuggling into his side, I sigh.

Keva once told me that secrets whispered into the darkness stayed there forever.

Locked away where no one could get to them.

Dawn is still a couple of hours away, yet soon enough, the first rays of the morning sun will be breaking.

Their light will spill through the window into the room.

Now, though, now it’s still dark. And based on Arturo’s even breaths, he’s deep in the land of slumber. Too far away to hear my confessions.

“Would it make me a bad person if I admit that I wish you’d stay delirious?

” I whisper next to his ear. “Or maybe I could pretend you weren’t when you said you’d walk through fire and tread icy water for me?

Would that make me too pathetic?” A lock of his hair has fallen over his face, so I reach out to sweep it away.

“Yeah, I think so, too. But that’s okay, you know?

I’m known for doing stupid stuff like that.

So, I’ll let myself pretend. Just until morning.

And then, we’ll both go back to hating each other. What do you think?”

Silence and rhythmic breaths are my only answer.

“I curse the day I met you, Arturo DeVille,” I whisper. Then, drop a kiss on his shoulder and close my eyes.

In a few hours, the sunrise will scatter the stillness of the night.

Will burn away my secrets—the truth—that I can’t face in the light of day.

Chase away my silly dreams, and usher me back into the grim reality.

Wiping out his sweet words from my memory.

Once I wake up, I’ll go back to keeping Arturo DeVille at arm’s length.

Because that’s the only way I can save myself.

From heartbreak.

From wanting something that I know could never be.

From craving forever with my husband.