Ascension - Book Eight - Man x Man

Chapter 131

Laying in bed as the sun creeps over the railing of the second-story porch, I trace circles on his chest. The tanned skin, the spattering of chest hair, I listen to the steady thump of his heartbeat and will myself to sleep but my body aches and I'm overcharged from a night of indulgence. Eve rests her head on my side of the best, I hear the bump of her tail wagging and admire the dog's intelligence with a chuckle. 

When Verando slept this good, there was little to wake him. Sighing, I kiss his chest as I slide out of the plush bed to grab one of his shirts and a pair of soft shorts. Running a hand through my hair, I attempt to not feel sick as I tread down the stairs to release the dog into the front yard. There would be no getting back to sleep with how I was feeling, nauseous and shakey, I was starving and yet couldn't think of a bite to eat.

I'd been spoiled from our time together in the hotel, he had been good about preparing breakfast for me, despite how he was feeling. I'd be on my own this morning, I'm sure the man wasn't fairing much better than I was.

Sipping on a glass of water, I bury my nose into the familiar scent embedded in the shirt as I press the chilled glass to the side of my neck. Crossing my arms as if I was holding myself together, the temptation to sneak back to bed was all too real, yet I knew I had a very small window if I wished to eat this morning.

My back held a steady throb as I stirred the pot of chopped potatoes and seasonings, which Rowan had shown me as an easy thing to cook that'd be gentle on my stomach. I flinch, adjusting my weight to my other heel, regretting my choice of indulging my warlord for a night of lovemaking. 

While it'd been incredible, I was beyond sore, for once feeling my age in that my battered and broken body needed a better warm-up and more thorough exercise if I was going to torture it. We were both worse for wear, it wasn't often that sex rendered me wired and unable to sleep. But I spent most of what remained of the dark hours worrying about him, me, this baby, and how others would perceive the knowledge that a man carried it.

Sighing in disappointment at how my body complained, I focus on the fact that I wasn't sick at the scent of the potatoes cooking. Normally a morning brandy or a chilled glass of white wine would suffice, but with my current condition, I wouldn't risk it. Glancing at the bottles of pills, it was a constant reminder I needed to try to eat before taking them. 

Four different medications designed to keep me as healthy as possible and help my body cope with what was happening to it. I place my hand protectively over the cuff, I'd had to many nightmares of it cracking, falling off and ruining this gift. 

Tasting the potatoes, I wrinkle my nose. Bland, not as heavily seasoned as I preferred, but it would work if it meant I could keep it down. With a slow inhale, I poke one with a fork and wave it back and forth to cool it down before popping it into my mouth. My hand travels from the cuff to rest on my navel, "Really? Potatoes?" I mutter, unimpressed. "I know you don't mean to make me sick but come now, you could at least be fair. I'd rather oatmeal than potatoes." 

Talking to the little dot made me almost euphoric, it could make any ache go away, and when I was by myself I didn't feel like such a lunatic. With each passing moment, as the potatoes browned, my mouth was practically watering. I can hardly wait, the smell was so good I eat them out of the pan despite the burn to my tongue.

Surprised to hear Verando, I glance over my shoulder as I see he's in a simple white shirt and jeans, by the expression on his face this was not a willing endeavor and he's as sore as I am. Tilting my head, he points to his ear and I know he's talking on his headset. As he grips his side, he moves to lean on the counter beside me, I rest my temple on his bicep as I stir absently while attempting to eavesdrop.