Dark Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 6) by Marysol James Page B

second, then relaxed.
    And suddenly, there they were: Warren holding a half-naked, delirious, smoking-hot woman in his arms. A woman who was burning up with fever, and who was now starting to shiver and shake in reaction to the drugs.
    Cursing under his breath, Warren grabbed the blankets, hauled them up and over her trembling body. She fought him at first, pushing the blankets off, but he tucked them around her body firmly, not giving her a choice about any of this. She needed warmth, and softness, and safety, and she needed them badly. Warren couldn’t do much more than he’d already done about the infection raging through her body, but he could give her those things.
    Her shaking got worse, and she started to whimper again. Her hands found his t-shirt, curled around it tightly, holding on for dear life. Tears leaked out from behind her closed eyelids, and she gasped with sobs. He held her closer, murmuring to her now as he stroked her hair.
    “Shay, you’re alright. I got you. You’re safe and I’m taking care of you, OK? Just sleep. Just let go and rest.”
    Proving that she was exactly the kind of exasperating woman who did the polar opposite of what he told her to, she turned her face up to his, and opened her eyes. Glassy, unfocused, those clear, pure depths were heartbreakingly blank. Gently, he took her chin between his strong fingers, tipped her tear-stained face up a bit more. He desperately wanted to see a spark of recognition in those eyes, just a hint of fire. He saw nothing, though, and his stomach clenched.
    “Here, baby,” he said. “I’m right here.”
    She frowned, her brow furrowed. He saw her trying to focus now, and he moved his face just inches away from hers.
    “Shay. Can you hear me? See me?”
    Her blank stare sharpened a bit, and he watched as those green eyes focused on him. A look of confusion passed over her face, and Warren smiled at her, a tight, worried smile.
    “Hey,” he said quietly.
    “Hey,” she responded, her voice weak. His heart leapt to hear it, though, since it meant that she was there with him, even just temporarily.
    “How you doing, Shay?”
    She contemplated him, semi-lucid now. “You know me?”
    “Uh-huh.” He dared to stroke her cheek with the tips of his rough fingers, wiping away her tears, and she blinked at him hazily. “How you feeling?”
    “I – I’m –” She swallowed hard. “Thirsty.”
    He nodded and reached for the glass of water on the beside table. He held it to her lips, helped her to sit up a bit. She drank, coughed, and drank a bit more. Slowly, he eased her back down to the bed, gathered her close again, and she let him. Shay sighed, rested her forehead against his chest.
    “Am I sick?” she asked, her voice stronger now.
    “Yeah. Yeah, you are. But I’m taking care of you.”
    She leaned back a bit, looked at him some more, and he wasn’t at all sure how much of this she was actually taking in. “You are?”
    “I am.”
    “Thank you.”
    He smiled again, a real smile, one that reached all the way to his eyes. “You’re welcome.”
    Shay stared at him. “My God. You’re gorgeous.”
    Startled, he huffed out a small laugh. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.” Out of the blue, she started to shake. She didn’t even notice, but he quickly wrapped the blanket around her again, pulled her back in to the circle of his arms. She clutched the blanket to her chest, still gazing at his face. “Do I know you?”
    “Yeah, baby. Kinda.”
    She nodded as if that made perfect sense, then he watched her eyes flutter shut. She sighed heavily, burrowed deep in to his body, and he knew she was going under. Sleep was the best thing for her now, so he lay quiet and still next to her, waited for her to drop off.
    When her breathing became slow and steady, he carefully moved away from her. She moaned and rolled away to face the wall. Warren registered his body’s dislike for this, how much it resisted the distance between them.
    Without