The Winner Takes It All by Jennifer Dawson

Author:Jennifer Dawson [Dawson, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781420134278
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 20949511
Publisher: Zebra
Published: 2014-12-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Cecilia woke with a start. Skin clammy, her stomach rolled. Sweat beaded at her temples as a hard wave of nausea crashed through her.

The Jägerbombs had betrayed her.

She jolted straight up. Another wave swelled, threatening to overwhelm her.

Oh no.

A shiver.

She was going to be sick. She bounded out of bed only to realize she wore only a bra and panties. A vague memory of Shane helping her out of her clothes, his hands on her hips and a brush of a finger over her cheek.

Desperate, she stumbled around the room, looking for a shirt to cover her.

Another violent clench of her stomach.

There was no more time.

She bounded from the room and ran down the hall to the bathroom, slamming the door and falling to her knees just in time to empty her stomach.

Her belly gave a savage heave just as the door opened and someone walked into the small room.

“You’re sick,” Shane said, stating the obvious.

She retched into the toilet, waving frantically and yelling into the porcelain bowl, “Go away!”

A wrenching surge left her gasping.

“Poor thing,” he said, his tone way too amused. He closed the door, leaving her blessedly alone to wallow in her sickness.

Only he returned a minute later and covered her with a cotton robe, helping her into the sleeves.

The fabric slid over her skin and she was equally grateful and horrified. She started to say thank you, but another wave crashed over her and she once again had her head buried. The expression praying to the porcelain gods finally made perfect sense.

Off to her left the water turned on, and ten seconds later Shane was sitting on the edge of the tub.

She wanted to die of humiliation. She was a sweaty mess, hovered over a toilet making disgusting noises. “Privacy!”

Of course, he ignored her. Instead of leaving, he gathered her hair, banding it between his fingers, while her stomach lurched again.

A cool towel fell across her neck and he pressed a palm over the washcloth to hold it close.

God, it felt so good. She shivered. It was pure heaven on her hot, sweaty skin.

Heaven turned into hell as another wave hit her.

It went on for what seemed an eternity, but was probably mere minutes. An endless, embarrassing cycle of sickness. Shane stayed by her side the whole time, refreshing the washcloth with cold water from the tub, that strong steady hand on her neck.

She dry-heaved, wanting to kill herself.

His broad palm rubbed down her back, so warm and strong. “That’s a good sign.”

Eyes a watery mess, she rested her head on the rim of the seat. “Good sign?”

“Everything’s gone, you’re through the roughest part.” Fingers trailed up and down her spine.

She heaved again, her stomach not getting the message that it was empty. “This is humiliating.”

He chuckled. “You’ll get over it.”

“I hate Jägerbombs,” she said pitifully.

“Most people do after a night with them.”

Stomach finally seeming to settle, she sat on her haunches.

He flushed the toilet. “Feel better?”

She stared at him. He sat on the edge

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