Page 51 of Waiting for Acceptance (Nashville Nights #5)

LAUREN

I wake up covered in sweat, my hair thrown into some makeshift bun, with little pieces falling out on all sides, and wearing a T-shirt that I don’t remember changing into last night.

“Hey beautiful, you feeling okay?”

I look over at Fitz with a pouty frown. “I feel gross.”

“Are you still nauseous?” he asks, touching my cheeks with the back of his hands, moving to my forehead, and then down to my neck.

“Not at the moment, but that’s subject to change.” I roll my neck and stretch my shoulders. “My body hurts though and I’m starving.” I look over at him, only to see that handsome-as-hell smirk on his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I’m fine. You didn’t have to stay.”

“Shh.” He leans forward and kisses my forehead. “Where else would I be?”

In your hotel room, far away from me and my vomit?

He stands up, and I take the opportunity to admire his physique.

I’ve seen Fitz naked or in his boxers plenty of times—his summer-tanned skin, his tattoo, his toned muscles, and messy black hair all make my mouth freaking water—in a good way.

Today, something just seems different, and I can’t quite explain why.

“Come here.” He scoops me out of bed and my arms fall around his neck.

“Fitz, put me down. I smell like the inside of a gym bag,” I complain, secretly hoping he doesn’t listen—he doesn’t.

He walks into my bathroom, and I immediately smell eucalyptus.

When we make it to the tub, he places me on my feet and I see my soaking tub full to the brim with bubbles.

I look at it and back up at him, my eyes trying to betray me by watering.

“Suddenly decide you needed a bath?” I try joking with him. His face remains serious as he reaches down and grabs the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it over my head. He wads it up and tosses it to the side, and I try to ignore how his movements affect me.

“No, Trouble. I’m taking care of you. ” He slides my panties down next, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. His hands rub from my calves all the way up to my hips, and when he stands back up, I look down to see he’s just as turned on as I am.

Is it normal to be this turned on when you’re sick? Aren’t I supposed to feel like death, or want to be a blanket burrito?

If so, I am far from normal…

He holds his hand out and helps me step into the bath, and I hum in appreciation of the hot water, soothing my muscles.

I sink down, letting my neck rest on the edge of the tub.

When I look back up at Fitz, his eyes are dark and his gaze travels from my chest up to my face.

He smiles when he reaches my eyes and moves to kneel behind me.

He takes my hair down and goosebumps spread across my skin.

He massages my head, then grabs my brush from the counter, gently combing through the tangles.

“Mmm, Fitz. That feels so good.” His lips move beside my ear and I lean my head back.

“Good. You deserve to feel good.” My eyes flutter open, finding his already on me, and I feel this ache in my chest for him. Which seems so crazy since he’s literally right here.

“Fitz?” I whisper.

“Yes, Trouble?”

“Touch me.” I see his jaw flex, and his throat work as he swallows.

“Where?”

“Everywhere.” His hands move from my hair, down to my neck, leisurely rubbing his thumbs in a circular motion until he slides them to my shoulders, doing the same thing.

When he moves them down my arms, his thumbs barely brushing the side of my breasts, I gasp.

He rubs all the way down to my wrists, and back up to my shoulders, before his hands move to my chest, slowly sliding down to my breasts.

He massages them with the perfect amount of pressure, gently pinching each of my nipples before moving down to my stomach.

I want to tell him to go back to my breasts, but I can’t manage to form words when his hands are working this kind of magic on me.

Suddenly, his hands disappear and all I can do is frown before he appears at the other end of the tub, reaching into the water to grab one of my feet.

“You’re not ticklish are you?” he asks, and I smile and shake my head.

“Not on my feet,” I tell him, making him quirk a brow at me.

Then he begins massaging my feet and I make a note to never pay for another massage so long as I have Fitz and his magic fingers.

He switches feet, rubbing them all the way up my calves before putting them back in the water, then he’s at my side.

“Feeling better yet?” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and I bite my lip, nodding.

“Yes.” His eyes narrow as he studies my face.

“What is it? What do you need?”

“Will you get in with me?”

“Anything you want, Sweetheart.” The contempt that used to accompany that nickname, is no longer there.

Instead, it actually sounds endearing when he says it, and my heart flutters.

He stands up, dropping his boxers, and I slide to the middle of the tub, giving him room to get in behind me.

The water sloshes as he steps in, rising closer to the edge when he settles in.

Then he grabs my shoulders and pulls me back to his chest. I lay my head on his shoulder and he kisses the top of it, running his hands along my arms.

“Do you need me to take you to the doctor today?” he offers, making me smile.

“I don’t think so. My stomach just feels a little queasy, but I don’t think it’s anything serious. Maybe food poisoning? I’ve never had it before but my enchiladas last night did taste kind of questionable.”

“Where did you guys eat?”

“Food truck on Main Street,” I tell him, feeling him pause.

“Well, no wonder you got food poisoning.”

“Hey, food trucks and gas station food are severely underrated.”

“You are unbelievable.” I can hear the laugh in his voice and I turn around to look at him, all joking matters aside.

“I was going to say the same thing about you.” His eyes soften as he moves one hand from the edge of the tub to cup my cheek.

“And why is that?”

“You stayed, you took care of me.”

“Is that really so hard to believe?” His free hand begins to travel over my body again, his thumb flicks my nipple and I guide his hand to palm my breast like he did earlier. “You like that?”

“Mmhm.” My eyes fall closed again, and he moves his hand between my legs.

They open for him immediately, giving him access to slide his fingers inside me.

I wrap my hands around his arms, the need for more of him growing stronger with every pump until I can’t take it anymore.

I sit up, prompting him to slide his fingers out.

I turn around and face him, reaching for his cock under the water, loving the hunger that flares in his eyes when I wrap my hand around him and begin pumping.

“You don’t have to—” I cut him off before he can say anything else.

“I want to.” He licks his lips, staying quiet and allowing me the freedom to continue. “I want you .”

He grabs my waist and pulls me closer until my hands are on his shoulders and I’m perfectly positioned above him. “I’m yours for the taking, Trouble.” He fists his cock and lines himself up to me, and I lower myself onto him.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You feel amazing.”

“Really?” I don’t mean to say it out loud, since I usually keep my insecure thoughts to myself, but it just…slips.

“Baby, your pussy was made for me. Nothing feels as good as when I’m inside you.

” I bite my lip, rocking my hips as he presses harder into me.

His grip on the tub is turning his knuckles white and I love knowing that I’m the one making him feel so good.

That I’m the one that’s pushing him closer to the edge every time I tighten my walls around him.

I stop rocking my hips and start bouncing up and down instead, without a single care in the world how much water is spilling out of the tub every time I do.

“That’s it. Just like that.” Every time he speaks my climax inches closer and closer.

I reach up, squeezing my breasts, and pinching my nipples, craving the sensation as I continue riding him.

“Look at me,” he demands, making my eyes fly open.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby. Keep playing with those perfect tits while I fill your pussy with my cum.

” His hand slips between us, putting the pressure on my clit that I need to come.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I whisper. My body begins writhing with pleasure as he grips my hips, keeping the pace that I’m slowly losing control of.

I take the place of his hand, playing with my clit to bring my climax to completion, and when I think I can’t take anymore, he thrusts harder, hitting that spot inside of me that makes me want to scream in delight.

“Fuck, Vince!” I hold onto his shoulders, as he slows down, his cock pulsing inside of me as I’m filled with his cum. He wraps his arms around me, my head resting on his shoulder as I sink into his embrace.

“I’ll never get enough of you, Trouble.” I roll my head and kiss his neck. “Now, let’s get in the shower so I can wash your hair.”

I sit up and frown at him. “Why are we moving to the shower?”

“Because as soon as I pull out of you, there’s a chance I’ll be washing your hair with my cum.”

“Right.” He leans up, biting and kissing along my neck, as his cock pulses inside me again.

If this is a dream. I hope I never wake up.

After our shower, Fitz insisted he bring me my food in bed, told me to pick a show to watch, and that he would take care of everything else. He comes back in with a bowl of soup that smells absolutely amazing, a pack of crackers, and a sports drink, as well as one of my tumblers full of ice water.

“I got you water too ‘cause I haven’t seen you drink much in the last couple of days.”

“Are you real?” I poke his face and he smiles, making me question the fact even further because who is actually this hot and sweet?

“Stop, you’ll give me a big head then yell at me for my ego.” I purse my lips and turn back to face the TV, pressing play on the show I picked.

“Hmm…true.”

“There she is.” He laughs and I look at him in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been a while since your little attitude showed up, I was starting to think you were sicker than I thought.”

“I guess you’ve just been keeping it fucked out of me.”

“Is that it?” I smile and shrug, seeing him shake his head at me. He hands me the bowl of soup and I blow it off before taking a bite, completely mind blown at how good it is.

“Oh my gosh, this is amazing.” I scoop another bite in my mouth, watching his face light up. “Where did you get this from?”

“Gran’s old recipe. Always did the trick when I was younger.” I look over at him, putting the bowl in my lap.

“You made this?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.” My mouth pops open, but no words come out.

I don’t even think my own mother ever made me anything other than microwaved Campbell’s soup when I was sick growing up.

“I have another surprise for you for dinner, but I wanted to make sure you could keep food down before making it. It’s not a dish you want to… lose.” His face scrunches and I laugh.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Trouble, you deserve so much more than me.” I place my bowl on my nightstand and crawl onto his lap, tucking a still-wet piece of hair behind my ear.

I cup his face in my hands and plant a soft kiss on his lips.

No words are exchanged, we simply kiss, then he tucks me under his arm, I grab my bowl of soup, and we watch Netflix until we fall asleep.

Best. Tuesday. Ever.