Surrender by Tawny Taylor Page B

breathed slowly, fighting against the whirling motion. “Whoa.”
    “Are you okay?”
    “I’m a little dizzy.”
    “I’m going to check your purse. Those couldn’t have been aspirin.” He climbed out of bed, giving me a full view of his nude backside.
    “Whoa,” I repeated. He had a perfect butt. Perfect back. Perfect shoulders.
    He turned around, giving me a full frontal view of everything, and I wished I wasn’t so freaking dizzy. Whoa didn’t cut it. “You’d better lie down.”
    That wasn’t why I’d said whoa, but I decided he was right, I did need to lie down. I went horizontal and the spinning stopped. Holding my head still, I listened to him pad around my room, to the soft ziiiip of my purse being opened, and the crackle of paper as he fished around in it for the plastic baggy with the medication.
    “Found it.” He circled around the bed, sitting next to me. The mattress sank under his weight, causing me to roll slightly toward him. “Are these the pills you took?” He dangled the baggy in front of my eyes.
    It took me a moment to focus. “Yes.”
    He inspected them closer. “Hmmm.” He stood, left the room. A few minutes later he was back with the bag of pills. And he was wearing a pair of black boxer briefs. Nothing else. It was a good look on him. Very good. “Okay, are you absolutely sure those were the pills you took?” he asked, shaking the baggy.
    “Positive.”
    “They’re aspirin. I looked them up.” He dropped the bag in my purse.
    “Okay. I guess I was just exhausted. And maybe getting sick. I’m not feeling so great this morning.”
    Sitting next to me again, he rested a hand on my leg. The slight mattress bounce made the spinning come back. I gripped the sheet under me in my fists. “You’ll stay in bed today. I can handle things on my own.”
    This sucked! Here I was, in New York. And I was too sick to go outside. “I’m sorry.”
    “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said. “Do you want something to eat before I go?”
    “No. I don’t think I could eat yet. I’m feeling a little woozy.” My bladder contracted, reminding me that it had been a while since I’d emptied it. “But I need to go to the bathroom,” I said as I cautiously angled myself up again. I clutched the flat sheet to my chest as I sat upright.
    “Easy,” he said, placing his hands on my shoulders as I moved.
    The spinning worsened as I stood, but then eased. The floor felt as if it were slanted rather than horizontal, which made it really hard for me to walk. Kameron followed me to the bathroom, his hands on my waist.
    “Gosh, this is terrible,” I said as I wobbled across the room.
    “I’m going to call a doctor as soon as I get you back in bed.” His voice was laced with concern.
    I stopped at the bathroom door, hand gripping the frame. “I’ll take it from here, thanks.” I lurched in, my toe catching on the threshold. I felt myself falling, then felt myself being yanked upright again, a thick arm wrapped around my midsection.
    “You’re going to have to let me help you,” my rescuer said.
    “This is humiliating.” My hold on the scrunched-up sheet tightened.
    “Think I haven’t seen a woman urinate before?” he asked as he walked me across the bathroom’s slick stone floor.
    “You have?”
    “Sure.”
    I’d never seen a grown man urinate. At least, not since I was a child. I vaguely remembered seeing my father pee once.
    Using his hands, he turned me around, holding me at the waist. Then he gently pulled the sheet away so it wouldn’t end up in the toilet. “Okay, the toilet’s directly behind you. Sit.”
    I slowly lowered myself down until the cool, hard seat was under me.
    Kameron stepped back, presumably to give me some privacy.
    My bladder said it wasn’t far enough.
    I gave him a little shooing motion. “Out.”
    He hesitated, then left, stepping outside the bathroom but leaving the door open.
    My very full but somewhat finicky bladder decided that was