Page 31 of Forbidden Fruit

“Vanessa?” I call for her, my hands framing her burning cheeks. Her name is barely a whisper on my lips. It’s a prayer.

She groans and smacks her lips together as though she’s parched, and I release a sigh. How long has she been lying here?

“Come on,zitella, let’s get you to bed.” I tell myself the pet name is just a consequence of adrenaline and fear. It’sa temporary lapse in judgement. And she won’t remember, anyway.

My arms snake around her back and under her knees. I scoop her up and carry her to her bed. The soft pink sheets are rumpled and thrown haphazardly around like she couldn’t decide if she was too warm or too cold. She settles on the bed, half-conscious and moaning as if she’s in pain.

“I don’t feel so good,” she complains. She down played how bad she felt in her message and it enrages me. If she were mine, she’d get the spanking of the century for not taking care of herself, for not taking this flu seriously, for not calling a doctor. For not callingmefor help.

But she isn’t mine. In fact, she’s so far from being mine that it’s a joke for me to be here right now. She’s my employee, and this is crossing so many lines.

Another whimper of distress leaves her lips and I don’t question why I do anything where she’s concerned. I just act. Caring on instinct.

I walk to the kitchen and pour soup into a bowl, then come back to her and bring it to her lips, cradling her head to help her movements. She only drinks half of it, but it will have to be enough for now. She takes the anti-nausea pill I hand her with a glass of fresh water.

“No more,” she complains, and I let her go.

I stand by the bed for a few minutes, watching her breaths even out. Only they don’t. Instead, Vanessa shivers under the blanket I pulled over her.

I gave her soup, meds, I’d even make my mother’s infusion if I’d thought she could hold it down. I can’t give her anything else.

Except comfort and care.

That I can do.

Carefully, like she is something precious, I slide into the bed with her and mould my body to her back, giving her the heat of my body to settle against.

She tenses for a second then releases a breath with a contented sigh. My nose is so close to her hair that I can’t help but inhale deeply. The sweet scent of cotton candy and peonies invades my senses and I groan. This smell, it’s sunshine and spring and joy all rolled into one. Everything I’m not.

My hands lifts to caress her hair, to soothe and calm her so she can rest and get better.

“I’m too warm,” she mutters.

Then, I’m frozen in place as she moves away from me and throws off the covers before she removes her pyjama pants and t-shirt and lies in nothing but her dark cotton panties.

Jesus, help me.

If God exists, She’s testing me right now. I see no other possibility.

Olive skin that looks soft to the touch contrasts with her dark brown hair. I lock my gaze to a point past her head, my body tense and ready to snap. I don’t need to see what she looks like wrapped around me and comfortable in my arms because I can feel her breasts against my side. I’d revel in her if this wasn’t so wrong. My heart kicks a drumming beat in my chest and unfortunately, being that I’m a man who’s had no action for weeks, my dick decides to join the party.

I’m already crossing so many lines… I shouldn’t be here and certainly not like this. Besides, Vanessa doesn’t need my heat anymore.

What she needs is rest and peace and quiet.

I move to leave, but she turns to face me, her hand landing on my chest and her body pressing to the side of mine.

I suck in a fortifying breath. I’m gonna need it.

For the next two hours, I let her stay wrapped around me while I soothe her with a soft massage on her scalp. I don’t look down, focusing on the light on the ceiling. Despite myself, my mind finds the absence of stimulation relaxing. I don’t sleep or close my eyes but sensory deprivation is not numbness or void or a black pool of pain and despair, It’s light and airy and peaceful.

It’s two in the morning when Vanessa seems to be finally sleeping deeply.

Reluctantly, I extract myself from her surprisingly tight grip, trying to press my hands into the safest part of her body. Shoulders and arms mostly. But the softness of her skin is unmistakable. The way she moves where I move, it’s maddening.

I stand and walk away, intent on not looking back at her until she whispers, “Thank you.” I stop dead in my tracks but when I turn around, she’s fast asleep and there isn’t a hint that tells me she knew who held her all the night.

I watch the rise and fall of her chest, the swell of her hips and the indent her pantiesmake against her flesh. Her forehead doesn’t shine with sweat anymore and she curls against herself. I lay the sheet back across her, hiding her body from my gaze.