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Until there was a loud rap at the door.
“Keep your ass on the couch,” Silvano called from inside the bathroom, making my lips twitch again.
That is until he came striding out of the bathroom.
Wrapped only in a white towel, slung dangerously low on his hips, his skin still dewy, his dark hair wet.
Clearly, my fantasy skills needed some work. Because nothing I’d imagined came close to how good this man looked without his shirt.
Thin, sure, but very, very fit.
I found myself thinking about how I could trace a finger—or tongue—between the indents of his muscles.
I wasn’t even saved when he turned his back to me, because the man had a nice, strong back too. With muscles that moved under the surface of his skin in all sorts of delicious ways as he reached to unlock, then open, the door.
No one came in, and I settled back into the couch as he spoke to whoever was there for a moment before closing the door and locking it again.
“Everything alright?” I asked when he turned to face me, something tucked in his hand. Did my voice sound as airless as I thought it did?
“Your meds,” he said, opening his hand to display an orange pill bottle.
“My meds?” I asked, brows knitting.
“Pain meds,” he said, placing the bottle down on the coffee table next to the iced tea, then immediately making his way back to the bathroom.
Alone, I reached for them, feeling my stomach drop when I saw my name printed on the label.
But… how?
I hadn’t been to the doctor.
“Don’t be a fucking hero. Take a pill and go to sleep,” Silvano said, coming back out suddenly, making me jump, almost dropping the bottle in the process.
“How did you get these?” I asked as I glanced up at him.
To find he’d traded the towel for a pair of low-slung sleep pants.
And only the sleep pants.
The man would show me no mercy, it seemed.
“A doctor,” he said, rolling his eyes like it was a stupid question.
“But I didn’t see a doctor.”
“Sure you did.”
“Fine, but I didn’t see another doctor.”
“Out of curiosity, are you always a pain in the ass?” he asked, making a snort escape me.
“I’m not a pain in the ass. I’m asking a valid question.”
“They’re legit pills. Want a phone to look ‘em up on?” he asked, then turned away before I could answer, and came back with a phone in a box. Like… a burner phone. “There. That’s yours. Look them up. Hell, look up your medical records if you want. You were seen this afternoon by a Dr. Giordano of New Jersey. And he gave you a script for ten pills. Now, I’m going to get some sleep. Think you should take a pill and do the same.”
With that, he was up in his loft, and I was left staring at the pills. And the phone.
And something occurred to me right then that maybe I should have pieced together before.
