Page 23 of Famine
I’ve never laid next to a man who I wasn’t related to.
“You’re hurt,” I say. “I don’t want to jostle—”
“If you were worried about jostling my injuries, you wouldn’t have dragged me damn close to the point of death.”
To be honest, I think I dragged himpastthe point of death, but apparently he can live through that too.
“I wasn’ttryingto hurt you,” I say. “I was trying to help you.”
He grunts, though I have no clue whether he believes me or not.
“I … couldn’t leave you,” I admit, picking at a fingernail.
The room is quiet for a long moment. Then—
“Lay down next to me,” he says again.
I run my teeth over my lower lip.
“I don’t trust you,” I confess.
“That makes two of us.”
I make a disbelieving noise. “Isavedyou.”
“If this is your idea of saving a man—” His voice cuts off and he takes a ragged breath, “then I don’t want to know what your idea of punishment is.”
“I can’t believe—” My teeth chatter, “I actually felt bad for you. You’re so rude.”
“Fine,” he says, “stay cold.”
I glare at his form in the darkness. It’s clear he’s done talking.
I last maybe another fifteen minutes before I curse under my breath, then scooch over to his side. I bump into something wet and gooey. The horseman hisses in a breath.
Shit—
“Sorry!” I apologize.
He grunts again.
Gingerly I lay myself down next to him, bumping his arm twice more on accident. Each time he makes a low, pained sound.
Bet he’s regretting his offer now.
Finally, my bare skin presses against the side of his torso. The only place to put my head is on his shoulder, and I can’t help but breathe him in. This is how lovers sleep, nestled in each other’s arms.
Whyam I even thinking about that?
“Don’t get any ideas,” I say out loud, as though the horseman is the one with the dirty thoughts.
“Because your flesh issotempting right now,” he quips.
My face heats a little. “I don’t know what you’re capable of.”
“I don’t havehandsat the moment. And until I reacquire them, I think you can save worrying about my capabilities.”
“Wait—‘reacquire them’?” I echo weakly.
