Out of the Blackness (28 page)

Back at his side, I try to coax him gently awake, almost whispering in my desperation. “Noah, come on, big guy. We’ve got to get you in the tub.” He’s so pale it truly frightens me. What if I should be calling an ambulance? What if his brain really does boil and it’s my fault? Desperate fear morphs into desperate anger and my gentle touches become more forceful. “Noah! Dammit, wake up! C’mon. I need you to help me.”

Noah groans once again and rolls onto his side facing me. “Good! That’s good, Noah!” I enthuse desperately. “Now sit up so we can get you in the bath.”

His eyes slowly open. Even if I hadn’t been here for the last twenty minutes trying to get him awake, one look at how dull and unfocused those gorgeous hazel eyes are would be enough to tell me he feels like warmed over death. Still, he gifts me with a smile and a sigh. “Avery,” he croaks. “Thought I’d imagined you.” His eyes start to drift closed, so I grab his legs and pull them none too gently over the side of the bed. Geez, they weigh a ton apiece.

“You didn’t imagine me. I’m right here.” I pat his cheek. “Noah, listen to me. You have to sit up and help me get you into the tub. You have a high fever.”

Noah groans. “Feel like lead,” he complains but helps me get him upright.

I shove the pills and glass of water at him. “Take these. You’ll feel better in the tub. C’mon, big guy. Help me help you.”

Noah slowly swallows the pills. As I place the glass on the nightstand, he slumps forward as if he’s more exhausted than any human has ever been. With aching slowness, he shuffles himself closer to the edge of the bed, preparing to make the massive effort of standing. Knuckles pressed into the soft mattress, Noah's arms tremble as he struggles. The man is a foot taller and almost a hundred pounds heavier than me, but I try to help. Bracing myself against the side of the bed, I slide my arm under his and curl it around his ribs. The man is positively slick with sweat. Gripping him tightly, I say, “On three, okay?”

He nods then groans and brings his hand to his forehead. “Dizzy,” he explains.

“We’ll get you feeling better in just a bit, okay?” When he carefully nods again, I start the count. “One…two…” Noah takes a deep breath and I follow suit. “…Three.”

We both grunt at the effort it takes the two of us to get him to his feet. I start to release him but he wobbles so I tighten my grip on his slippery back. “That’s the hard part,” I pant encouragingly. I gently turn Noah towards the bathroom and take every slow, unsteady step with him.

What seems like ages later, we’re in the bathroom. Noah leans against the sink to catch his breath as I turn off the water in the tub. I’d left it running at a fairly slow rate, but it has taken us so long to get here that it’s only a couple of inches from the top. I turn back to Noah who is listing to one side, his eyes closed again. Grabbing his wrist, I stop his slow slump. His eyes pop half open again.

“Can you do the rest by yourself?” I ask tenderly, grazing my hand down his cheek to keep his attention. The feel of his stubble sends a shiver down my spine.

“I’m taking a bath?” he queries with some confusion.

“To lower your temperature.”

“Oh,” he answers, struggling to stand on his own again. I steady him with a hand on each side of his ribs. He blinks at me as if he’s not sure I’m really there. With an unexpected flick of his wrists, his boxers fall to the floor.

Oh.
Oh!

Not quickly enough, I drag my gaze back to his unfocused one and swallow hard, my heartbeat racing, my hands suddenly shaking. A completely naked Noah is the last thing I expected, even though I’ve just drawn his bath. Right. Bath. Naked. Sort of goes together. But—oh, geez. He’s so…naked. And, uhm,
gifted
.

I look away, back to his bedroom and see his unmade bed. Okay, so not helping. I swallow again around a suddenly desert-dry throat and step away, forcibly keeping my eyes locked on the reflection in the mirror of Noah's strongly muscled bare back. He lists forward and I quickly step into him, resuming my previous grip on his back but bringing my other hand to rest low on his hard, flat, bare belly. To guide him better, that’s the only reason for that contact. My voice is a croak when I speak. “Okay, big guy, let’s get you into the tub.”

I guide him carefully the remaining few feet to the bath. Floor space is cramped so I have to watch both of our feet to make sure neither of us steps on the other or trips on a rug. And I will swear by all that is holy that I’m not once distracted by the generously thick length of him curling over his balls. And not once do I almost erupt into nervous giggles when I absolutely do not notice how well-trimmed he is. None of this happens because I keep my focus locked on our feet and the floor. And it’s a good thing I’m not religious because I would surely spontaneously burst into flames for lying to myself.

No, instead of getting caught up in the sight of Noah's gloriously naked body, I cautiously advise him to step into the tub with one foot. “Good. Now the other.” It’s incredibly awkward and for half a second I think he’s going to crash us both to the floor, but we manage it. The first touch of his foot to the water makes Noah gasp and jerk back, but I lean on him enough he resumes the mission. Soon both feet are in the tub and we slowly lower him into the water, all the while I pretend I don’t hear his whines and curses. Somehow I keep it together enough to continue offering encouragement and praise.

Mere inches from mission accomplished, Noah's foot slips and his body comes into crashing contact with the bottom of the tub. He gasps, eyes wide, and I mimic him as the sudden infusion of Noah's body mass sends a wave of freaking freezing water hurtling over the side of the tub, drenching my shirt, jeans and the bathroom floor.

Checking quickly that Noah's okay, I grab the towel from the rack on the wall and desperately attack the escaped water before it can damage the hardwood. Without more than a sliver of a thought to Noah's presence, I rip the soaked shirt over my head and apply it to the job on the floor, too. Shivering, I finish mopping the water and stash the towel and shirt in a soggy pile behind me. I sit back up on my knees and look to Noah. He stares back at me through violent shivers but wearing a slight smile. His wet hand reaches out and cups my cheek, thumb to my lip as always.

“S-s-so bu-beautiful,” he whispers through his tremors.

Suddenly I realize I’m half naked, something I never, ever am when there’s the remotest chance anyone will see. I skitter backwards into the corner nearest the door, curling into a ball with my knees drawn up to my chest. I hug my legs, keeping my torso pressed against them, hiding as much as possible.
Please tell me he’s too sick to remember this
, I pray silently.

“M-my bu-beauti-beautiful Avery.” Noah sighs through chattering teeth, letting his head fall back against the wall. His fevered eyes close. I watch him closely for a minute to make sure he won’t slip under the surface of the water, then silently slink away to find something to cover me.

***

When I open the door to Kira, she stops in surprise and gives me a slow once-, twice-over look. I know I must look a fool. In addition to absurdly swimming in one of Noah's blue plaid shirts, my jeans are soaked down to the knees from the tidal wave of water. I know my face shows the stress of worrying about Noah and his possibly boiling brain. I can’t help caring about him and I won’t hide it from Kira. I don’t need to. Still, my get up is a bit embarrassing.

“Uhm, water came over the side of the tub and soaked me,” I explain with a blush, ushering her in.

“Uh huh. And so you decided to wear a long-sleeve shirt? In May?”

“It was
cold
water.”

Kira laughs and ruffles my hair. The gesture is so Noah-like that tears spring to my eyes. I blink them away furiously. “Show me to the patient,” she says.

“He’s in the tub,” I tell her, leading the way. “Oh, I guess you figured that out.” I bite my lip and look back at her. “Should I have called an ambulance? He’s really out of it.”

She puts a hand to my shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. We’ll figure it all out when I see him. Getting him in the bath was a great first step. Did you get the Tylenol into him?”

“Yes, well ibuprofen. I didn’t know what to do,” I lament, walking into the bedroom. “Sam’s never sick. I’ve never had to take care of someone before.”

“You’re doing fine,” she assures me, stepping into the bathroom. She kneels next to the tub and puts her hand to Noah's forehead. He hadn’t seemed as hot when I’d done the same a few minutes ago. “Pretty high fever,” she confirms, digging into her purse.

Noah's eyes flutter open and he offers her a weak smile. “Hey.”

“Hi there.” She smiles back at him. “Got yourself sick, did ya?” She brandishes a digital thermometer from her purse, removing it from its protective case.

Noah groans. “Feel like crap.”

Kira nods. “I bet you do. You look it, too. Open up.” When he opens his mouth she slides the thermometer under his tongue.

Noah's body temperature has warmed the water enough that he’s no longer chattering his teeth. Or maybe the cold water has cooled him enough? I don’t know how these things work, but I hope it’s in Noah's favor. Watching Kira stroke Noah's slowly drying hair, I’m glad I thought ahead enough to cover his…gifts…with a wash cloth. While I have no idea how modest Noah is generally, I’m sure Kira would rather not see just how well-endowed Noah is, even accounting for shrinkage. A baby’s arm comes to mind and I have to stifle a nervous giggle.

Kira shoots a curious look at me over her shoulder, but the beep of the thermometer captures both of our attention. She gently removes it from Noah's mouth and reads, “103.6. That’s not dangerous right now, but it is too high.” She smiles at me. “Good job cooling him down, Avery. There’s no telling how high his temp was before you got him in here.”

I smile tremulously back at her. “It was your idea. Is he going to be okay?”

Kira shrugs. “He’s sick. There’s no doubt about that, but we’ll get him through it.” To Noah, she asks, “Do you want us to take you to the doctor?”

“N-no.” He shivers again, seeming much more awake. “It’s just the f-flu. Been g-goin’ ‘round.” He slides back so he’s sitting more or less upright. “Have to type my paper.” He groans and brings his hands to his face. “Or die. That might be easier.”

“Don’t you say that!” The vehemence in my voice surprises all of us.

Noah tries to smile up at me, but his lips barely turn up at the corners. “I’m only kidding. I think.” He shivers again. “Can I get out of here now?”

Kira frowns. “Your temp is still really high, Noah. We need to get that down.” She thinks for a minute and turns to me. “There should be some ice packs in the freezer. Wrap two of them in separate dishtowels and bring them back. We’ll get him settled in bed and use those to lower his body temperature. We’ll also need more Tylenol and some Gatorade. Do you have any, Noah?”

He nods miserably.

I nod, too, but hesitate. For some reason I’m reluctant to let her help him out of the bath. It’s more than not wanting her to see his nakedness, although that’s a huge part of it. Strangely, it’s not about shielding her from him. It’s that I feel I should be the one to help him, the only one to help him. Somehow Noah's nakedness is something special just between us.

It’s a ridiculous thought. I know that. After all, how many men has he taken to his bed before? Any one of them could claim far more familiarity with Noah's body than I could ever hope to, but I would fight off every one of them, too. As stupid as it sounds, Noah belongs to me. Not really and not forever, I know that, but right here, right now, he’s mine and I have to see him through this.

“Kira—” I start and stop because, really, how do I even explain these very weird, possessive emotions?

She looks back up at me and smiles in understanding. “You want to help him to bed?”

“I-I’m already wet. And, well, he’s…you know.”

She smirks. “Naked?”

I nod and avert my gaze, blood rushing to my cheeks.

Surprisingly, Kira gets to her feet and pats me on the shoulder as she passes. “I’ll see you in a few minutes. Call me when you have him covered up or if you need help. Nice touch with the wash cloth, by the way.” I can’t tell if the laughter in her voice is nervous or mocking, but I decide I don’t care. She may have known him her entire life, but he’s mine now.

In the tub, Noah gathers his strength to try to stand, but fails. He gazes at me with misery in those gorgeous hazel eyes, his breath coming heavier from his struggle. “Can’t,” he says.

Before I can even think about it, my hands frame his beautiful face and I press my lips to his, offering comfort and support and strength in a kiss, only the second kiss I’ve ever initiated between us. I draw back and press our foreheads together.

“Gonna get you sick,” he mumbles.

I kiss him again. “I’ve had my flu shot.”

He half smiles and kisses me again. “Good. So good.”

I chuckle at him. Even in his weakened state, he’s all about the kisses. “Roll over on your knees. I can help you up more easily that way.” He tries to smirk like I’ve said something naughty but he can’t quite manage the expression. “Yeah, yeah,” I say around a grin, moving away to grab a fresh bath towel from under the sink.

Once he’s on his knees, I lean in and wrap my arm around his ribs. Together, we slowly get him to his feet. He breathes heavily into my hair for a few minutes before straightening fully. I step back and hold the towel up for him to step into when he gets out of the tub.

Even those few steps seem to exhaust him. He leans a shoulder heavily against the wall. I take pity on the poor sick baby, tenderly rubbing the towel across his broad, muscular shoulders, down his long powerful arms. This should scare the hell out of me, I think. I can see up close and way too personally how powerfully built the man is. But I feel something entirely different from fear: tenderness, empathy and something more I absolutely refuse to acknowledge. Sweeping the towel down the vast expanse of golden-haired chest, past pebbled nipples that practically beg to be suckled, I feel blood pooling in my groin. I glance up to find Noah watching me intently, his eyes riveted to my face. Quickly swiping down his faintly-chiseled abs, I switch to his back to avoid his heated gaze and marvel at the musculature beneath my fingertips. I feel the heat of him through the towel. My breath catches in my throat as I’m confronted with the firm roundness of his glutes. My hands shake as the towel glides over them. My eyes nearly roll back in my head as the incredible sensuality of my actions hit me full force. I have never touched another person so intimately, never ever wanted to, but now I don’t want to stop. With the towel between our skin we're not really touching, but I could swear I feel an electric current pass between us.