“Eh, probably not when the woman is so banged up and gross.”
“Babe, are you fishing for compliments?”
Appalled, she said, “No!”
“Then stop putting yourself down. I keep telling you: You’re hot. No matter what.” Even when her face and hair had been covered in blood, her left eye nearly swollen shut, his overriding thought had been that she was his. “I can’t deny the banged-up part, but I swear, that makes me want to go all caveman on you. Shelter and protect you—that sort of thing.”
“Caveman, huh?”
“That territorial tendency is as powerful as lust, but with you, I felt all of it. Every sharp-edged, raging instinct. I want to keep you safe. Once you’re healed, I want to make love to you—with the lights on. But until you’ve recovered, I’m definitely someone you can rely on.” And after that, too.
Pausing, she turned to face him, her expression so vulnerable it hurt.
Kam drifted his fingertips over her cheek. “I want all that. I know it’s asking a lot, but—”
She laughed, gasped, and caught her hand to her ribs. “Yes, to all that, and a bigthank-youas well. Now I really need to get off my feet.”
Yes, to all that.The constriction in his chest lifted. He stepped around her, arranged the cushions the way he thought would work best, and helped to ease her into her seat. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Practically running, he went down the hall to fetch multiple pillows and a couple of blankets. Ten minutes later, with a lot of small adjustments, Glory settled comfortably with a small sigh of relief.
“Okay?” he asked, stretched out along her right side with a soft pillow between them so he wouldn’t accidentally bump her.
“It’s as perfect as it can be, but will you be able to sleep?”
“Better than I could apart from you.” He shifted to half face her. “Swear that if you need anything, even a drink of water, you’ll let me know.”
The room was dim with only a small light from the kitchen filtering into the room, but he still saw her slight smile. “I swear.” She turned her head toward him. “Thank you for being here with me.”
“It’s where I want to be.” He’d pulled her coffee table closeto the couch, and then gently lifted her feet up on a pillow. She was reclining as much as she could, which wasn’t much. A lounge chair might be better for her, but she didn’t have one, and if he got one, then he wouldn’t be next to her. “Are you sleepy?
“A little.”
Sleep would be the best thing for her—but her confession was still out there, and he didn’t want her to think he’d dodged the topic, or worse, that he didn’t care. “Do you feel like explaining what you said earlier?”
“About how my parents died?”
Maybe, with it darker now, it’d be easier for her to share. “Yes—if you feel up to it. If you’d rather sleep and talk in the morning, that’s okay, too. Just know that everything about you interests me.” He wouldn’t blame her, never that, but if she blamed herself, getting it out there might help her rest easier.
“There are things that happened that day that I’ve never shared.”
“Never? Not even with Callie?”
“There was no reason to. Mom and Dad were dead, and nothing would bring them back. Others had heard them arguing, especially at the gas station when Dad stopped to fill up. The weather was bad. They’d both been drinking.”
In other words, no one had questioned the wreck? “I’m sure everyone was busy taking care of you.”
“That, too.” She kept her head turned, her gaze on him, as if that gave her comfort.
He reached out to settle his hand on hers, holding her fingers loosely.
She returned the touch, not so loosely. “I was bad, Kam.”
Just as quietly, he said, “You were a child.”
“I was eleven. Older than you when you went to live with Addie. Old enough to know better.”
“What happened?”
