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Andrea goes to Confession.
Even as he worried about her health he considered the gesture erotic.
"Food," she murmured. Then turning to him she continued, "Douglas, why are you still here?" Miriam had hoped he was delusion. The intent look on his face was all too real.
"I couldn't leave you," he softly said his voice rough with emotion. He reached out and smoothed her hair back from her face. Moving from his position, he stopped blocking the door. He inwardly groaned as she brushed past him, the short contact electric.
She moved to kitchen trying to ignore him. Opening the fridge, she saw very little and nothing remotely edible.
He was like a shadow standing behind her. It was all he could do to keep himself from sliding his hands around her waist and whispering in her ear.
"I'm fine, you can go now," Miriam wasn't sure how she managed to sound so cold when her entire body was so hot. She wondered if this was another psychosomatic symptom. Turning around too quickly, she found herself pressed against his body. She couldn't step back and the look in his eyes made her unable to turn away. Her breath was caught in her throat and skin flushed, as she remained trapped like a deer caught in the headlights.
To him, she looked as if she'd faint at any moment, "You need something to eat. I'll order something in." His hand went to her waist to help steady her again.
She imagined his large hand sliding under her shirt. "You don't need to go to the trouble, I'll be fine."
He placed his other hand on her cheek, "You're burning up." Without pausing, he picked her up and shut the fridge with his foot. Carrying her back to the bathroom, he felt as if the meaning of life had been made clear.
"Put me down," she knew why she was hot and it wasn't a fever. There was no cure for it and why was he acting like he cared suddenly?
He heard the anger in her tone and slowly put her down. She looked up at him and he saw something strange flashing in her eyes.
Damn it, she thought, why does he have to be so sexy? "The doctor said I just need some rest and No Stress." She emphasized the last two words, as his very being was the main source of all her stress.
He opened his lips, but no words would come out. "I'm sorry," he finally managed to say. He moved around behind her, placing his hands on her hips began to rub her back under her loose shirt. It was odd; normally she was fully clothed and tired when he had given her a back rub. This was somehow very different; as his fingers slide on her bare skin feeling her relax almost magically.
When she felt his fingers sliding under her shirt, it felt like a dream. She pulled her shirt over her head. All symptoms had faded away, even her headache, a new ache for him had replaced it.
He was so intent on rubbing her back that he had closed his eyes. When he heard her pulling the shirt over her head, his eyes opened and her head turned towards him. Then her shoulders until she was facing him. He was stunned, his hands had slide along her waist and remained on her back.
She didn't know what to say, after all this was her dream. Her fingers moved up, undoing the buttons on his business shirt. Seeing his jacket slung over sofa, it seemed normal for him to be there, in her apartment.
The silence made the whole thing seem surreal as he watched her deft fingers undo his shirt his arms dropping to sides so she could slide it off his shoulders. "Miriam," he hated breaking the silence, but if she really wasn't feeling well then it could be medication making her act this way.
He said her name, she ignored it her fingers sliding over his chest admiring the warm skin. Her fingers circling, sliding, exploring, just letting herself revel in every sensation.
"Miriam," she didn't seem to hear him the first time, and now he was sure it was medication affecting her behavior.
"Hmm?" it was a dreamy questioning tone as she looked up.