Mr Reluctant Billionaire || BWWM

Fifty-two

Amber eyes are the first things I see when I wake, Brandon’s hand on my cheek lowers to his side. He leans back like he is scared I will kick him off the bed, I manage a smile which seems to heighten his fear. The smile fades, I groan and count under my breath.

Lethargy washes over me, even if I want to kick him, I am too tired to do that. I palm my head, ignoring the pain that pierces my heart at his subtle withdrawal. The pounding in my head intensifies, I groan. He draws closer to me, hesitant to cradle me in his arms. Offering no resistance, I lay still in his embrace, accepting the comfort he provides.

My fingers run in circles around my temples but the throb migrates to the centre of my head. I claw at my forehead, slap the sweaty skin gently until Brandon grabs my hands.

Tears gather in my eyes, I whimper and yank my hands from him. The growing pain in my head unearths the emotions from last night, I shove him when he comes close and regret it immediately. An heaviness takes over my head which falls to the pillow.

Brandon’s worried face obstructs my view of the ceiling, his hand hovers over me and I am glad he doesn’t touch me. “Elna, what’s wrong?” You. You did this to me. “Elna.”

My eyes squeeze shut, I feel myself growing hot and I palm my forehead. “Make it stop.”

Minutes later, my head is placed on a firmer surface, Brandon’s legs. The hairs tickle my cheeks, my eyelids part to see him hunched over me with a warm towel that meets my forehead. He runs the towel over my neck and the exposed part of my body, brows set in concentration and my knuckles brush his cheek. His smile is fleeting, I retract my arm.

“You dressed me up.” He helps me into a sitting position, places a low stool between us with a plate of what he calls Truffle fries. I smoothen the oversized shirt I am wearing, fold my legs while he reaches for a glass of water. “You dressed me up in your shirt.”

The shirt hangs on my body like a potato sack, I tug on the sleeves in an attempt to pull it over my knuckles. Twisting the first button causes it to fall off, I toss it on the floor, repeating the action until there are no more buttons left to cover my nakedness.

A nipple peeks out of the shirt, the hairs on my neck rise under Brandon’s gaze lingering on me like a forbidden presence. I hesitate to accept the pills he offers and he notices.

“It will help with your headache,” he explains with his hand stretched to me. Staring at the white pills, I let out a deep breath, put them in my mouth before I change my mind.

A glass of water comes next, once I down it, he starts feeding me the fries. This gesture isn’t new to us but the awkwardness makes it harder for me to swallow. Brandon’s hand trembles a few times, I should hold him, try to calm him down but I am not calm myself.

Piece by piece, he feeds me until the plate is empty but I am still hungry, my stomach must have doubled in size while I slept. This is what I get for starving two people. He eyes my hands which lower to my stomach, I point to the tiny bowl filled with creamy liquid on the bedside drawer. Brandon doesn’t let me bend, he hands it over to me.

“Cheese,” he volunteers when I glance his way. “For the fries.” But they are finished.

Dipping a finger into the melted cheese, I lick it. Bad idea. Within a heartbeat, I am bent over the toilet, retching every bit of the Truffle fries into the bowl. Brandon rubs my back, each heave feels like my lungs are failing. When there’s nothing more left in my stomach, I rinse my mouth and his hands come under my knees and back to lift me.

“I want to go home,” I say, burying my head in the crook of his neck. His steps falter but he manages to lower me on the bed in one piece and I crawl to the centre, cuddling the pillow with a deep longing for things beyond my control. Sniffing, I add, “Today.”