I sit. I watch. I wait. She hoots and laughs as she goes through the first several and then I almost hear her brakes skid to a stop. “No way, bro. That one shows my ni**les.” She goes through a few more and then scrunches her eyebrows and brings the phone closer to her face. “You said you couldn’t see anything when I was sitting like that, you liar. You can see my vajayjay in these.”
Dammit! She’s deleting all the great ones.
She passes the phone back to me and I go through to see what’s left. It’s not too bad. She only erased a handful. I’m surprised I get to keep all the near nudies with her legs sprawled apart. In fact, it shocks the shit out of me. I wonder if she overlooked those, but I choose to not mention it, just in case.
She picks up the phone I gave her from the bedside table and then lies next to me on the bed. She holds it at arm’s length to take our picture together. “Say cheese.”
I smile because she asks me to, knowing I shouldn’t let her take these kinds of pictures of us in bed together. I only give in because she doesn’t know how much money she can make by selling these photographs to the media. She has no idea I’m Jack McLachlan. Even if she knew my name, she still wouldn’t know I’m one of Australia’s richest and most eligible bachelors. I somehow think it wouldn’t matter to her, even if she did know. She’s the daughter of a superstar and his fame doesn’t seem to phase her at all.
Oh, to hell with it. What’s a few pictures going to hurt? I take the phone out of her hand and hold it out to get one of me kissing the side of her face. Then her mouth. Then her neck.
After my mouth reaches her breast, I drop her phone to the bed because our photo shoot is forgotten.
23
Laurelyn Prescott
I wake before Lachlan for the first time, but it’s because I don’t feel well. I try to go back to sleep for an hour, but I’m unsuccessful. My head is pounding at the base of my skull and I’m nauseated as waves of heat flash throughout my body. I kick off the covers in an unsuccessful attempt to gain a little relief from the uncomfortable sensation.
Please, don’t puke.
The urge to vomit becomes more and more pressing. I try to suppress my body’s demand, but my stomach betrays me and wins the battle. I dash from the bed to the bathroom and make it to the toilet right before I spew. I try to keep the noise to a minimum, as if subdued heaving is a possibility.
I hear a light tap at the bathroom door. Shit. I didn’t lock it in my haste to reach the toilet. “Don’t come in here.”
The door opens and Lachlan enters in spite of my warning. I reach up and flush the toilet because I’m uncomfortable with him seeing any of my body’s previous contents. There are some pretenses I wish to maintain. “Trust me, you don’t want to see this.”
“I’ve seen people chunder before.” Maybe so, but he’s never seen me throw up.
He wets a washcloth with cold water and places it on the back of my neck. He takes my hair into his large hands and secures it with a clip. I don’t even want to know how he learned to do that. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
I’m embarrassed for him to see me this way. “I’m sorry you’re seeing me worship the porcelain god. I know how attractive this must be, but in my defense, I told you to not come in here.”
He’s rubbing my shoulders to comfort me. “I’ll survive seeing you chunder. Think you’re finished for now?”
This has been happening to me for a while and I know the routine. Once I vomit, I’m fine. “I’m better now.”
Lachlan helps me back to bed. “Do you think you ate something bad?”
“No. This happens to me out of the clear blue sometimes. I get a headache during the night and when I wake up, the pain is so bad, it makes me throw up. It’s weird because once I vomit, I’m fine. The pain goes away and so does the nausea.”
“Have you told your doctor about this?”
“Yeah. I’ve had scans and everything seems normal. My doctor diagnosed me with migraines.”
He examines my face like he’s not so sure. “I think you should lie down and rest.”
I walk to the sink so I can brush my teeth and I argue with his reflection in the mirror. “I’m okay, Lachlan. It was a migraine and now it’s over. Promise.”
He lets me finish brushing my teeth before he objects to what I’m saying. “I have to go out and check the grafts today. I want you to lie down while I’m out.”
There’s nothing wrong with me, but this is what he wants, so I agree to do it. “I’ll lie down while you’re gone, but let the record show I’m only doing it to make you happy, not because there’s anything wrong with me.”
He watches me in the mirror as he kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”
It’s ridiculous to go to bed when there’s nothing wrong with me, but I do it because he asks me to. I hear the shower cut on and consider getting up to step inside with him, but I know that won’t go over well.
Why am I so eager to please this man?
When he finishes getting ready, he comes out of the bathroom and sits next to me on the bed. He strokes his fingers over my forehead and pushes my hair away from my face. He takes my phone from the nightstand and puts it on the bed for easy accessibility. “I’ll be gone a couple of hours, but I’ll have my phone with me if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to call.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Feel better.”
I could argue that nothing is wrong with me, but I don’t. “Sure thing, boss.”
When he’s gone, I reach for my phone and scroll through the pictures we took last night. He has the seminudes on his phone. I have the sweet ones where he’s kissing my face, my mouth, and my neck. I come across one where he’s looking at me like he adores me. He makes it so easy to forget about our agreement, but then I remember that there’s a very logical reason for why. He’s good at this game because he’s played it before. On twelve prior occasions to be exact.
I put the phone down and close my eyes. When I open them again, Lachlan is sitting on the bed next to me. I lift my head to see the clock. Shit, it’s almost ten o’clock—I must’ve dozed off.
He passes a glass of orange juice to me. “Are you feeling better?”
He’s so thoughtful. I sit up and take a drink. “Yes. Can I get out of bed now, Dr. Henry?”
“I suppose you may, but I happen to like you in my bed.”