“Well, this is me.” She shrugged as I looked around the living room, which smelled like vanilla and coconut—like Grace.
“Nice,” I commented, my eyes locked on hers. I knew I was coming on strong, but I couldn’t seem to help it. I’d given up trying.
“Are you hungry?” she asked as she put her purse down on the table next to the door.
The truth was that I felt like shit. The doctor had begrudgingly released me with a warning that I needed to rest. I’d readily accepted that advice, since it allowed me to finally go after my girl, something I’d been aiming to do since she’d walked out of my hospital room three days before.
“You don’t feel very well, do you?” she murmured perceptively.
“I’m fine,” I gritted out.
She rolled her eyes. “Save the macho bullshit, will you? The last thing you need is to be readmitted, and let me tell you, I do not miss sleeping in that chair. Go lie on the couch, and I’ll make something to eat.”
I grinned, fighting the urge to kiss her senseless. “Yes, ma’am.”
I situated myself on her comfortable couch, taking in her home. With its hardwood floors, custom built-ins, and subtle feminine touches, the house was classy, just like her.
I turned on the TV, flipping to a ball game, and with legs spread out in front of me, crossed at the ankle on her coffee table, and hands clasped across my abs, I rested my head back, intending to shut my eyes for a few minutes.
When I woke up in darkness an indeterminable amount of time later, it took me a second to get my bearings. I was still on Grace’s couch but had clearly been asleep far longer than I’d intended.
I rose to my feet, scrubbing a hand over my face as I found my way to the kitchen in search of a glass of water. A note on the fridge had me grinning from ear to ear.
Didn’t want to wake you. There’s a plate in the fridge for you in case you’re hungry.
I was fucking starving, and the fact she’d gone to such trouble to take care of me had me yearning to do the same for her. Being laid up wasn’t something I was used to or comfortable with.
One thing was for sure: coming so close to death made me all the more determined to live.
I warmed up the plate of pasta she’d made before sitting in the eat-in kitchen and devouring every bite.
With my belly full, I cleaned up and, after using the bathroom, headed down the short hallway in search of my girl. A door to the left opened to an empty room, and I remembered Emmie had recently moved in with her new husband, Gunner. When I opened the next door, my heart thudded in greeting at the sight of Grace, curled up in bed, fast asleep.
Her room was more overtly feminine than the rest of the house, painted a light lavender with a lilac comforter and some frilly pillows. A light trace of vanilla wafted through the air, making my cock twitch in longing to be wrapped up in her scent.
I walked quietly into the room, not wanting to wake her, sitting on the other side of the bed to remove my boots. She might be expecting me to sleep on the couch, but I had no such intention. I lay on top of the covers, aching to pull her close, to kiss her head and stroke her lush curves.
Though every inch of me desired her fiercely, there was nothing sexual about my urge now. It was simply a need to hold her close after weeks spent in and out of sleep, finding her curled in that tiny chair nearly every time.
Her actions the last few weeks spoke volumes about her character and the depth of her heart.
When I’d wake up, my mind foggy from painkillers, one thought was always crystal clear, like a mantra repeating itself.
If I survived, she’d be my reward.
She made the sweetest sound in her sleep, something between a moan and a sigh, and I barely fought an audible groan. It was going to be a long fucking night.
Chapter 6
GRACE
Iwoke the next morning to a hot-as-hell Ruston King sprawled on top of the covers, one muscular arm thrown behind his head, his face turned toward me, achingly gorgeous in his sleep. Despite him being fully clothed, he might as well have been naked for the effect he had on me.
I liked the sight of him in my bed. It felt good, right in a way that scared the hell out of me. It was that fear that had me bolting from the bed, hastily wrapping my favorite silk robe around myself and leaving the room as quickly as I could.
I started the coffee and, realizing I hadn’t gotten the mail the previous day, headed out the front door to grab it from the curb.
I was on my way back with a handful of what I was sure was junk mail in hand when I looked up and startled in surprise at finding Ruston glaring at me from the front porch.
