When I gripped his thigh this time and got him turned the correct way onto the bed, he gasped.
When I handed him his meds and water, he held my gaze as he took his dose, swallowing it down slowly.
When I walked to the door and kicked it shut instead of leaving, I swore he stopped breathing, his chest going still.
And finally, when I flipped the lock and checked it twice, he threw his head back against the headboard.
Then he groaned out two filthy words I’d never heard from his mouth.
“Holy. Shit.”
36
ADAIR
Iwas dying inside.
Dying.
A slow death by Ireland Sewell and her intense, heated, vibrant blue gaze as she walked toward me, the slit in her skirt teasing me with glimpses of her skin.
I wasn’t breathing. No way I could until… I wasn’t sure what.
Her eyes trailed over me, from my haphazard hair falling over my brow to my ratty T-shirt, to my leg, which was once again hiked up on pillows she’d fussed with.
“I want to touch you,” she said, her tone level.
I nodded enthusiastically, my mind made entirely of white noise.
With her gentle guidance, she got me moved toward the center of the bed.
“How’s your pain level?” she asked, inching closer to me.
“What pain?” I asked, and God, if that wasn’t the truth.
Dead people didn’t feel pain, right?
Her lips twitched up, and the pain and shame in her eyes cleared, replaced by…
Nope. I couldn’t even think about this woman wanting me. No matter what evidence was right in front of my face.
She leaned over me, and I breathed in lavender just as her lips ghosted against mine in the promise of a kiss.
“Good,” she whispered against my lips, and then I was falling backward.
Eyes wide and lips parted, I watched as Ireland lifted the pillow she’d just pulled out from behind my head and tossed it away.
“Tell me if you start to hurt,” she said, eyes bouncing between mine. “Or if you want me to stop.”
I nodded because words weren’t working, but I’d be damned if my dick wasn’t picking up the slack.
There was another scrape of her lips against mine, and I almost whined when she pulled away, but the complaint died in my throat as she put her knee on the bed and swung her leg around, straddling my chest.
Backward.
Oh,holy shit.
I clutched the quilt beneath me in both hands, sure I’d see my ghostly form floating by the ceiling fan if I looked up there.
