Alex (Striking Back #4) by S. M. Shade

Author:S. M. Shade [Shade, S. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01B8RIV7C
Published: 2016-02-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Alex

Ian Turner kissed me. If that isn’t shocking enough, he confessed to having feelings for me. It’s taking every ounce of self-control I possess not to bend him over right now and show him how good it can be. I have to keep in mind this is all new territory for him. I’ve known I like men since I was a kid and I can’t imagine how difficult it is for him to accept it so late in life. I’m afraid if I don’t let things progress at his pace, he’ll panic and run back to the women he’s used to.

So, I don’t push it. Not even as far as another hand job yet. I love Ian. I’ve loved him for quite a while, but tried to ignore it. I never really thought there was a chance. Now, I just can’t screw it up. The next few days finds us cuddled and kissing on the couch every evening, though we still retreat to our own beds to sleep.

Lying in bed alone again, I decide to try to take it a bit farther the next night. I want to feel his cock again, in my hand and in my mouth. Like I told him when he was stressed, one thing at a time. A smile stays on my face as I drift off, dreaming of all the things I want to show him.

Ian is still in bed when I get out of the shower the next morning. “Are you going to sleep all day?” I call, tugging my shirt down over my head.

He doesn’t respond, not even when I open his bedroom door and call his name again. Lying on his back, his eyes are sealed shut, his normally pale cheeks a bright red. Before I can call his name again, his entire body goes rigid and begins to shake. Fuck! He’s having a seizure. Fear turns my stomach as I rush to his side and grab his phone from the bedside table. I don’t know what else to do, but talk to him softly and make sure he doesn’t fall off the bed or hit his head.

“I’ve got you, buddy. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay,” I repeat, trying to convince myself as much as him. It doesn’t last long, and by the time I’m on the line with 911, the tremor stops. “Ian, can you hear me?” I ask, laying a hand on his cheek. His skin is on fire.

“He’s not responding to me,” I tell the dispatcher. “He’s burning up.”

“Is he breathing?” she asks, her voice the only calm in a raging storm.

The rise and fall of his chest is shallow but regular. “Yes.”

“Just stay with me. The ambulance should be there any minute.” The longest three minutes of my life pass while I wait for the ambulance. He has to be all right. This can’t be happening now. Not after everything that’s happened. I can’t lose him too.

The EMT’s rush me out of the way and quickly get him on a stretcher and into the ambulance.

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