Spoonfed
The spoon hovers in front of my face like a mother bird feeding its chick. I shoot Logan my best death glare, but his amused smirk only grows wider.
"Open up." He waves the spoon. A drop of golden broth threatens to fall on my hospital gown.
I press my lips together and cross my arms. The movement squeezes at my IV line, leaving my elbow feeling a bit bruised, but it's worth it for the dramatic effect.
"The doctor said clear liquids only." Logan's voice carries that infuriating mix of authority and tenderness that makes my stomach flutter. "And since you can't talk..."
My scowl deepens. The breathing tube removal left my throat feeling like I'd swallowed broken glass coated in fire ants and tiny demons stabbing me with pitchforks. Even if I wanted to tell him exactly where he could stick that spoon, I physically can't.
"Come on, Nikki." He leans closer, his forest-green eyes sparkling with mischief. "You need to eat something."