Chapter 222: Let Me Give You A Little Comfort
Chapter 222: Let Me Give You A Little Comfort
Angelia
I woke up slowly, my fever-like dream holding onto me with a slippery finger. It was like I had dredged through mud that reached my thighs just to become somewhat conscious but when I did, oh my goodness, be still my tender heart. There was a lot that could be said about sleeping in the arms of someone you cared about. And more to be said about waking up in the middle of two men you had feelings for.
Marshall must have gotten in bed sometimes after I had fallen asleep, he was now pressed against my back, spooning me like Riccardo had done last night for a brief moment before I had turned around. Riccardo was against my front, or more precisely, I was against his front as I had thrown one of my legs over his while the other was between his leg. Hell, if I knew how I had managed it, but couldn't complain about the cuddle fest. I was cocooned in safety by two men and I didn't want to have it any other way, except maybe with Kingston involved in this little cocooning too.
My eyes felt heavy as I lifted it to peek over Riccardo at the clock by his desk. It felt like my mind was filled with cement, it throbbed in a way that suggested I had gotten too much sleep these past days but my eyes were heavy too, disagreeing with my head and meant I had gotten too little sleep. And my body was clammy and sweaty, but cold and I shivered when I should have been hot in the middle of the furnace that were the men's body heat. The clock showed that it was the middle of the night still but as I let my hear fall back onto the pillow, the room felt like it was spinning and I groaned softly with nausea. Did I imply I liked this cuddle fest? Because I took it back, I wanted to kick them off me but I didn't want to go without their heat.
Removing my legs for Riccardo and pushing Marshall back, I sat up. Each movement I made brought echoes to my body and the room would not stop spinning. My stomach rolled and I had to get out of bed and run to the bathroom, my feet unsteady and stumbling on the way. I could only thank my lucky stars that I wasn't sleeping at Riccardo's house because then I wouldn't have been able to see shít in the dark. I made it to the toilet just in time.
For what felt like hours, I puked until there wasn't anything left to puke and then I reached some more. With my head still making it feel like everything was spinning, I pressed my head against the cold tiled wall, hoping it would ease some of the discomfort. I didn't register the light being turned on or the sound of footsteps coming towards the bathroom. I only noticed it when the door opened up behind me.
“Shit, are you okay, honey?” Riccardo's silky voice washed over me and it helped me more than the tiles ever could.
Groaning, as if that was enough of an answer. I forced my eyes open in a squint, only to see him leaning over me and a worried Marshall.
“Do you want me to carry you back to bed?” He asked, taking in what probably looked like an uncomfortable position which it was.
“No,” I mumbled, squeezing my eyes as nausea hit me. It didn't feel like my stomach was done revolting.
“Not yet.”
The next thing I knew, one of them was moving me so I was sitting between their legs with my back against their front. This position was far more comfortable than the last, but it took away the cold-press I needed to aid with my headache. I felt a hand press against my forehead and a swear broke out from behind me.
“Fúck, you are burning up.” Riccardo said, revealing that it was Marshall behind me.
“Marshall, would you mind getting a couple of washcloths, one lukewarm and one cold? And then a glass of water?”
He didn't respond and I couldn't be bothered to open my eyes but I presumed he had agreed because a few seconds later, I heard the water turn on. While he was getting the washcloth, Riccardo seemed to be massaging a part of my wrist. My head grew even heavier the longer I was holding it up, but no matter how much I wanted to let it fall back and rest against his chest, I knew the motion would only make me become sicker.
“Here,” Marshall said quietly as if to not disturb me and when Riccardo let go of my wrist to grab the washcloth, I let out another soft moan, feeling a nausea take hold again.
I rushed forward to the toilet and at the last second felt someone hold my hair up and away from my face. I should have been embarrassed by the sound I made but if there was one thing I could be thankful for, it was that when you get this shitty, you didn't much care about anything else. As the round of puking gave way to stomach cramps, Riccardo helped me into a more comfortable sitting position, but not after he carefully and gently washed my mouth with the now more cold than lukewarm washcloth. Once again, I didn't feel the embarrassment I would have felt if I was completely lucid but I wondered if I would have been embarrassed even then because the way he looked at me without a hint of disgust in his eyes, just pure worry didn't make me feel ashamed, only comforted.
He swept away the hair strands that were stuck to my face, before placing the other washcloth on my forehead. The coldness of the cloth was a blessing to my aching head but it didn't help the ongoing shivers. Marshall came hurrying back in, I could see a glass of water in one hand and a thermometer in the other hand.
“Here you go, baby girl.” He squatted in front of me and held out the glass of water.
“Just drink slowly so it doesn't trigger your nausea. Kingston is awake too, he is making you some ginger tea.”
Instead of handing me the glass, he put the rim of the glass to my mouth and slowly tipped it. I didn't know what to feel about it, if I should feel like I was treated like a toddler or taken care of because I was sick and this was the only way they could do anything at all. It stung slightly as I swallowed, but it seemed like I couldn't get enough water to quench a sudden thirst or maybe it was just a need to rinse my mouth and soothe my throat.
“Easy,” he said, pulling the glass away.
“You will get sick if you drink too much too quickly.”
Maybe I was damn a toddler because I wanted to pour like one.
“Okay, let's take your temperature.” He took the cap off the thermometer and motioned for me to open my mouth.
“Kingston assured, this is a new one.” He explained.
“Hold your tongue up for me, yes.. there we go.”
I closed my mouth around it, disliking the feeling of the cold tip pressing against the underside of my tongue.
I should thank my lucky stars he didn't put the tip in my rectum for a more precise reading. I almost wanted to laugh at the thought but I would probably puke if I used my abdominal muscles. The thermometer peeped and he frowned down on it.
“Your temperature is high, I will go grab some medicine.” He said and left.
“Are you feeling any better, honey?” Riccardo asked, only then did I notice that he was drawing circles on my back in a soothing motion with one hand, while still holding the cold cloth to my forehead.
“Feeling well enough to move back to the bed?”
“I think so," I replied, my voice a little on the weaker side. I made a move to get up, but he was already ahead of me as he removed the cloth and placed one hand beneath my legs and the other one my back before lifting me bridal style. When I started protesting about being able to walk myself, he shushed me.
“Let me give you a little comfort I can.” He muttered and I had to be truly gone to out swoon.
Good God, this man was on a whole other level of men. Instead of putting me back in the middle of the bed, he placed me on the right side, closest to the window.
“I will get a blanket, just in case.”
Maybe, I was feeling better because it didn't make me just a little bit embarrassed, but not enough to stop my eyes from falling shut or my mind from getting middle enough for me to promptly fall asleep.