Provocative (Tempting Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

of cells that was overruling me in all the aspects of my life that were most important—such as food.
    I sat back on my heels and took a breather. “Get your shit together,” I said, poking the slight protrusion that rounded my stomach. “I need sleep.”
    It was weird, right? Talking to your stomach, to something that couldn’t process language.
    The vomit came again, more violently than before. My face was fully in the toilet at that point, and I couldn’t stop the tears that spilled over my cheeks. My throat was on fire, and my stomach was constricting and expanding, making noises that didn’t sound human. My knees hurt from where they dug into the tile as my fingers clenched on the toilet.
    I was exhausted, after spending hours catching up on notes from the classes I’d skipped that day. Nathan had moved to touch me in bed and for the first time in the last year or so, I waved him off with a shake of my head. He’d kissed my hair instead before rolling over, which made me feel inexplicably sad.
    But I could barely think about that now, as vomit curdled in my stomach again, and I held on for dear life as it came out of my mouth.
    A hundred f-bombs were on my tongue, but the only things that came from my mouth were vomit and the occasional whimper, when I had a second to catch my breath. I’d never puked so much, not even when I’d had thirteen whiskey sours and then four shots of Baileys in quick succession.
    I sighed into the toilet and half-heartedly reached for the handle so I could flush away the acidic smell that filled the bowl.
    “Hey,” Nathan’s voice came from behind me.
    The tears were still pouring from my eyes and because I was embarrassed, I didn’t turn to look him in the eye. “This blows.” It was all I could manage.
    “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. I felt him squat beside me. “What can I get you?”
    “I’d settle for a stomach transplant right about now.” I rolled my forehead across the lip of the seat.
    “I’ll get in touch with my contacts on the black market.” His hand came to my back and just laid there, over the thin satin of my chemise. “What can I do?”
    More vomit came before I could answer and my entire body bucked as I grabbed the toilet again. When I seemed to have a reprieve, Nathan was closer to me and rubbed the corner of a cool, wet washcloth along my forehead. “How’s that?”
    I could only nod as I sighed, turning my head to give him more access to rub the cool cloth over my face.
    After several minutes of silence and relief from not vomiting, I said, “I thought morning sickness was supposed to be in the morning only.”
    “I think that’s just the saying, but I’m pretty sure it can happen anytime.”
    “Sweet,” I said dispassionately. My body convulsed like I would vomit again, but it held it in. “If it wasn’t for the little … thing … inside of me, I would expect a six pack abs after all the times I’ve worshipped the porcelain throne.”
    For some reason, calling it a baby—especially my baby—was still foreign; surreal. Admittedly, Nathan responded to the news a hell of a lot better than I did. I was still trying to adjust to the idea that pretty soon I’d be enormously bloated and probably pissed off at my sheer wideness. Thinking this would be caused by an itty bitty baby made up of Nathan and me was incomprehensible.
    Nathan stood up and I heard him turn on the faucet and drench the washcloth again.
    When he returned, I turned more fully into his touch. “This is so gross,” I said, but my voice was scratchy.
    “It’s not that bad,” he assured me, brushing my hair from my face and tucking it behind my ears. “It could be worse.”
    The thought played like a dream in my head—like Choose Your Own Adventure, with me alone in my dark and dank apartment, drunk out of my mind and relying on some college nitwit to support the life we created together.
    I turned to Nathan, who was sitting on the floor beside me, running