His face abruptly creased in concern. “Not that you aren’t beautiful every day, because you are. Obviously. That’s not what I meant at all.”
He’d called her beautiful. Just said it outright, as if it were a given. An immutable fact. As if any suggestion shewasn’tbeautiful would offend him.
How had all that sweetness survived his childhood intact?
She would have said he had a heart of gold, but it must have been stronger than that. Steel. Diamond, maybe.
“I knew what you meant.” Comfortably propped against his headboard once more, she smiled down at him. “Don’t worry.”
She couldn’t help it. She had to brush that stray eyelash from his cheekbone.
His skin heated beneath her lingering touch, and he caught her hand with his. “I don’t have enough functioning brain cells to worry right now.”
Fire sparked beneath her skin as he gently played with her fingers, exploring the valleys between them and the ridges of her knuckles with light strokes of flesh against flesh.
She struggled to keep her tone even. Wry. “I know you too well, Martin. You will always, always have enough functioning brain cells to worry. It’s one of your many charms.”
He tugged her hand to his mouth, and his lips pressed against her palm. “Thank you.”
“For calling you a worrier?” No oxygen again. She was going to have to evolve into a higher life form soon, one that could survive outside Earth’s atmosphere. “My pleasure.”
His lips were soft. So soft.
He spoke into the cup of her palm. “Thank you for caring about me. Thank you for coming to check on me.” His muffled voice turned dry. “Thank you for breaking into my home to do so.”
She tried to jerk her hand away, but he held on. “I didn’t break into your house! Bea told me about your fake rock. Which is a disgrace to fake rock-kind, by the way. Next time, buy a key-holder that approximates something found on the actual ground.”
“Thank you for sitting beside me when I was hurting,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Thank you for telling me about your father and your mother.”
Goddammit, she was trembling like some nervous virgin. “I didn’t tell you much.”
“It’s enough.” A tender kiss to the center of her palm, and then he folded her fingers over that spot. “Rose, I—”
His stomach growled. Loudly.
They glanced at it together.
After a slow exhalation, he started again. “Rose, I’d like to—”
Another growl, this one extended and angry.
She wanted to do this. She did. But now wasn’t the right time.
“Let’s get you fed.” Sliding her hand free from his, she levered her weight carefully off of his mattress. “Do you have a tray I can use on the bed?”
His mouth went tight for a moment, but he didn’t protest the interruption. “My back is feeling a bit better, and the doctor says I’m supposed to move as much as I can. We can eat in the kitchen together. Let me just put on my shirt.”
With tiny, halting movements, he removed the sheet and began to ease his way to the edge of the mattress.
Like the rest of him, his bare legs were lean. Strong.
Like the rest of him, she wanted to run her tongue over them.
“Do you need help getting out? Or getting dressed?” She really should offer to leave while he got on more clothing. But…no. Not happening.
His feet touched the floor, and he waited a second to make sure he could stand upright before moving again. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. I hope.”
She hovered nearby, ready to support his weight if needed. Delighted to, actually, if that meant more contact with his strong shoulders and warm flesh.
