So maybe your life is in shambles and you run away to London to get your head straight. Sure, you don't really have a plan but the Universe does, and before you know it, some kid from Kingston has completely turned your world upside and your body i...
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"Stop fussing over me, please!" you repeated for the third time. Tom stood there with a glass of water in one hand, a moist towel in the other. He took you back to the villa after you got sick, insisted you lie down on the luxurious king size that previously hosted several filthy escapades between you two, and commenced to fret over you like some yenta.
You were fine, though. Several days of overindulging, plus a boat- it's no wonder you got sick. Everything must have just caught up with you. After a shower, you felt right as rain.
"You sure you're okay?" He sat on the edge of the bed, next to you, stroking your thigh as you towel dried your hair.
"Yes!!" you laughed exasperated, throwing your towel at him. You were not one to be fretted over. Never cared for the attention.
He just continued to wear that concerned look that he couldn't seem to get rid of since the boat. You knew how to fix that.
"Thank you for being such a good nurse, Tiger," you purred into his ear, leaning closer so your robe slipped off your shoulder.
He gave you a smirk, "I guess you ARE feeling better."
"Only a little,"you batted your eyes at him, "I need you to put your healing hands on me," you placed his hand on your bare shoulder. His lips curled even more.
"You feel feverish," he said placing his lips on your forehead.
"What do they say about a fever? Sweat it out?" you bit your lip.
He tugged on the belt holding your robe in place. It untied and slid down, exposing you completely.
"How do you suggest I sweat, Tiger?" you leaned back onto the bed and flashed him your best come hither smile.
"We need to raise your temperature," he said with mock seriousness, kissing just above your knee. He looked up at you and continued to work his way up.
"You're getting warmer...," you eyed him.
His lips made their way up your thigh, over your stomach, lingering over your nipple.
"Warmer...." you whispered, pulling him to your lips. He started unfastening his trousers and unbuttoning his shirt frantically, trying to undress himself.
You pushed against him, gripping at his clothes, trying to get them off of him as quickly as you could.
"You're burning up," Tom said grabbing the back of your thigh roughly.
