Save Her Lose Us (Evangeline and Soren) novel Chapter 97

The sight of vomit on the floor made Soren's skin crawl; for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to slam the door and get out of there. But when he saw Evangeline, unconscious and pale, he forced down his rising panic and helped her into the bathroom.

Some of the mess had gotten on her dress. Soren maneuvered her into the tiny, run-down shower, figuring he'd at least try to clean her up a bit. He twisted the handle, and immediately the overhead rain-style shower erupted, drenching them both in icy water. Evangeline jerked in his arms, the freezing shock snapping her out of her stupor for a split second.

But then, a fierce thirst clawed at her throat, and a feverish heat seemed to flare beneath her skin. The cold water did nothing to soothe her—if anything, it made that burning sensation worse, like her whole body was on fire. She could feel every breath radiating heat.

A primal, desperate urge scrambled her thoughts. She gasped, searching blindly for something—someone—to anchor her. Soren fumbled to figure out the unfamiliar shower controls and finally managed to shut the water off. He barely had time to catch his breath before she suddenly collapsed against his chest, her body feverish and trembling.

Her delicate hands slipped under his shirt, restless and searching. Startled, Soren looked down into her glazed, pleading eyes—eyes that seemed to drown him in longing. Her soaked dress clung to every curve, leaving little to the imagination. He swallowed, pulse pounding, his mind nearly blanking out.

Soren never saw much point in suppressing his own desires—especially not with Evangeline. She was his wife, after all, no matter how turbulent things had gotten between them. Their marriage was a fact, whether he liked it or not.

So, as he always had, he responded to her.

The cramped shower grew stiflingly warm, the air practically humming with tension. Soren pressed her gently against the tiled wall—but whether by accident or a stray elbow, the shower suddenly sputtered back to life, spraying them both down again.

…

But as the minutes ticked by, Gregory was nowhere to be seen. Soren's stomach started to grumble. He'd been on his way from the club to the villa to have dinner with Helena when he'd run into Evangeline. He certainly hadn't planned for any of this.

Annoyed and hungry, he rummaged through the fridge. There were a few groceries, a plate of sautéed greens and shrimp wrapped in plastic, and a bowl of packaged beef soup—leftovers from her lunch, most likely. The rest was just frozen ready-meals.

Soren was notoriously picky. He didn't eat takeout, wouldn't touch microwave dinners, and certainly had no habit of finishing someone else's leftovers.

But after a few more minutes, hunger won out. He pulled out the cold food, heated it up, and took a bite. There was something about the flavor—familiar, almost nostalgic.