Yes, Masters (Book 2 of Desire's Den)

Chapter 47 - Emma

I woke slowly, my fever-like dream holding on to me with slippery fingers. It was like I'd dredged through mud that reached my thighs just to become somewhat conscious, but when I did, oh my, be still my tender heart.

There was a lot that could be said about sleeping in the arms of someone you cared about. And more to be said about waking up in the middle of two guys you had feelings for.

Mateo must've gotten in bed sometime after I'd fallen asleep. He was now pressed against my back, spooning me like Callan had done yesterday for a brief moment before I had turned around. Callan was against my front—or more precisely, I was against his front as I'd thrown one of my legs over his hips, while the other was between his legs. Hell if I knew how I'd managed it, but couldn't complain about the cuddlefest.

I was cocooned in safety by two men, and I didn't want to have it any other way, except maybe with Gideon involved in this little cocooning too.

My head felt heavy as I lifted it to peak over Callan at the clock by his desk. It felt like my mind was filled with cement. It throbbed in a way that suggested I'd gotten too much sleep these past days, but my eyes were heavy too, disagreeing with my head and meant I'd gotten too little sleep. And my body was clammy and sweaty, but cold, and I shivered when I should've been hot in the middle of the furnace that were the guys' body heat.

The clock showed that it was the middle of the night still, but as I let my head fall back onto the pillow, the room felt like it was spinning, and I groaned softly with nausea.

Did I imply I liked this cuddlefest? Because I took it back. I wanted to kick the guys off of me, but I didn't want to go without their heat.

Removing my legs from Callan and pushing Mateo back, I sat up. Each movement I made brought aches to my body and the room would not. Stop. Spinning.

My stomach rolled, and I had seconds to get out of bed and run to the bathroom, my feet unsteady and stumbling on the way. I could only thank my lucky stars that I wasn't sleeping at Callan's place, because then I wouldn't have been able to see shit in the dark.

I made it to the toilet just in time.

For what felt like hours, I puked until there wasn't anything left to puke, and then I retched some more.

With my head still making it feel like everything was spinning, I pressed my head against the cold tiled wall, hoping it would ease some of the discomfort.

I didn't register the bedroom lights being turned on, or the sound of the footsteps coming towards the bathroom. I only noticed it when the door opened up behind me.

"Shit, Sweetheart, are you okay?" Callan's silky soft voice washed over me, and it helped me more than the tiles ever could.

Groaning, as if that was enough of an answer, I forced my eyes open in a squint, only to see Callan leaning over me, and a worried Mateo standing behind him.

"Do you want me to carry you to bed?" Callan asked, taking in what probably looked like an uncomfortable position, which it was.

"No," I moaned, squeezing my closed as another bout of nausea hit me. It didn't feel like my stomach was done revolting. "Not yet."

The next thing I knew, one of the guys were moving me so I was sitting between their legs with my back against their front. This position was by far more comfortable than the last, but it took away the cold-press I needed to aid with my headache.

I felt a hand press against my forehead, and a swear broke out from behind me. "Jesus, you're burning up," Callan said, revealing that it was him behind me. "Mateo, would you mind getting a couple of washcloths, one lukewarm and one cold? And then a glass of water?"