Page 5 of Sweetie Pie (Wildwood Construction)

Maggie

Three weeks dodging Colt is not as easy as it sounds. The man is insistent on talking to me and I’m just as insistent at staying the hell away from him.

My dreams are driving me crazy. Last night, I went to bed exhausted at eight o’clock hoping against hope that I could sleep uninterrupted.

Fat chance of that.

“You’re so beautiful, Mags.” The lust and desire that I remember are faded to something sweeter, more hopeful. His hands are gentle, warm, the callouses on his hands scraping along my bare skin.

Shivering, I feel the warmth of his breath on my lips as he takes them, claims them. His lips are firm, hungry as he growls inside my mouth, his tongue swirling the inside of my mouth.

I can’t bear it and my hips twist and lift under him. The world spins as he rolls and lifts me up on his hips. Gasping, I slip delicately down on his stiff member.

His deep sapphire eyes glitter in the dim light and his strong hands clench on my hips. Slowly, he guides me down on him and I can’t breathe.

“So good,” I mumble under my breath but he hears me.

“Yes,” he hisses. “It will always be this good with us. All you have to do is let me in, baby girl.”

My head falls back as each delicious inch of him fills me until I can’t feel anything but him. My hips twist and my back arches at the delicious pressure. The exquisite torture of him.

Panting, I drop my hands to his chest, my fingernails sinking into his firm skin as I lift myself up and then drop down.

He groans and I feel it all the way to my soul. My belly clenches wildly and then nausea creeps over me and his face twists darkly.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers but my head shakes quickly and I keep going.

But I can’t quite reach the huge orgasm that was rolling over me mere moments ago. My stomach twists again and nausea slams into me as I moan and slip sideways. His hands firm on my hips as his gorgeous face dissolves into confusion.

“What’s going on, baby girl?” Darkness swirls around me and my head spins. Everything spins.

“Ugh,” I groan and then I fall into space.

Jerking awake, I gasp and sit straight upright and the nausea crawls up the back of my throat.

“Oh shit,” I groan and leap out of the bed, running for the bathroom. I barely make it before the retching starts and I lose what was left of my dinner.

My stomach rolls and clenches until I stop retching, leaning my head against the cool tile as I slowly drop down to the floor.

Perspiration cools on my skin and I shiver. “Dammit,” I growl. This is the second time this week that I’ve had to run for the bathroom to lose my cookies. I don’t want to be sick but this is ridiculous. Closing my eyes, I let my stomach settle and then crawl slowly to my feet.

Glancing in the mirror, my lips twist when I see the dark shadows under my eyes. I grab my toothbrush and brush my teeth gently. It feels like my whole body is one big ache.

“I should go to the doctor. I must be sick.” I feel like hell. My head is still swimming and there’s an echo of the nausea from minutes ago still in my belly.

I shuffle out of the bathroom and down the hall, reaching out to pull a stack of crackers out of the cabinet. Munching on them, I eye the window dully. It’s still dark out and I wish to hell I could go back to sleep but I don’t think that’s happening.

Sighing, I eat two or three crackers and then put the cellophane sleeve back. Shoving my hands through my hair, I wish this would quit happening.

“I guess I better make a doctor’s appointment.” I settle at the table and rest my head on my crossed arms, huffing and groaning, the whole room fading away as I let my mind drift.

Unfortunately it drifts exactly where I don’t want it to go.

Bam bam!

My head jerks and I slam my chin into the table, swearing a blue streak. “Goddammit!” I rub at my chin as I stumble to the door.

“I swear I’m gonna kill my brothers,” I mutter, whipping the door open.

My mouth falls open and I cross my arms over my chest. Colt glares at me. “What the hell are you doing up so early, Mags?”

Closing my eyes, I gulp a swallow, my stomach rolling in that way again that makes me want to run.

But I’ll be damned if I run away from Colt. I straighten my shoulders and swallow the nausea. “What are you doing here, Colt?”

His face goes blank but he says nothing, just waiting. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Ditto,” I grumble, stumbling back slightly as he pushes his way inside the door. My skin heats up immediately and it’s like going from hell to heaven so fast my stomach protests again. My head swims so bad I have to take a deep breath and lean into the door.

“What the hell is going on with you, Mags?”

“Nothing. I just haven’t been feeling very well lately. You still haven’t told me why the hell you are here banging down my door, dammit! We agreed this was a one-time thing.”

He stomps over to me and leans in so close I can see the gold sparks in his blue eyes. “I didn’t agree to any damn thing.”

My lips twist and I cross my arms over my chest. “So you were just telling me what I wanted to hear.”

His head cocks and the smirk on his firm lips makes me so mad I’m trembling. “What if I did. I wanted you to realize just how good we could be together.”

“And now it’s barely been three weeks and you’re already here in the middle of the night basically. Wanting to browbeat me into being together with you, I guess.”

“I’m not trying to bully you into any damn thing. I want to be with you, Mags. I think, with how things went when we were in Carverville that you want the same things. I want you to give us a chance.”

I point a slim, shaky finger at him. “You’re trying to push me into something that I have no intention of doing. I’m not on board with that.”

My stomach heaves again and sweat breaks out on my forehead. My mouth waters and my whole head goes numb.

“Oh fuck!” I tear away from him and down the hall, my hand on my mouth. Skidding, I slide into home base right beside the toilet. Sadly, I’m getting damn good at that.

My belly heaves and then my body twists and the retching starts. I can’t seem to stop and tears pour down my cheeks as my whole body rebels at whatever the hell is going on with me.

A cool cloth runs over my face and arms and a harsh, yet soft voice whispers words that I don’t understand through the buzzing in my head.

He picks me up off the floor and carries me into the bedroom like a prince carries his princess. Carefully, he sets me down on the bed and then steps back and covers my body gently.

“You rest. I’m not going anywhere.” His big paw comes up and gently pushes my soaking-wet hair out of my face. “You’re fine, sweetheart. You don’t even have a fever. You must have eaten something funky.”

I want to tell him that I don’t think so. It seems like everything I eat right now seems to do this to me.

But I close my eyes and let his soft, soothing words and the comfort of having someone look after me help me slip into a dark and dreamless sleep.