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“God, I’m going to kill you at this rate,” she said, when he finally got himself under control.
Hugging a pillow to his chest, he managed a grin and a watery wink. “Yeah, but what a way to go.”
Finally, they settled into actually watching the movie, and it was…strange how comfortable it was sitting there with Dani in his basement. Watching his favorite movies. Taking turns digging into the popcorn. It all felt oddly natural. Normal.
Temporary.
Which, given his track record, was probably better for her.
Sean sighed. All this churn in his head kept him from really enjoying the movie. He needed to go for a run. Or punch something. Or fight a goddamn fire.
But as none of those things were in his immediate future, he kept his ass planted right where it was. And then Dani grabbed a pillow, propped it against his thigh, and stretched out with her head leaning against him.
Her gaze cut up to his. Lingered for a moment. “You mind?”
“My leg is your leg,” he said, not meaning to repeat that line but glad that he did when she chuckled.
“I’m wondering just how broadly this principle applies.”
“How broadly would you like it to apply, Dani?”
What had he hoped for when he’d asked her that question? And why did it seem like that’d been months ago? A weird compression of time had happened since the accident, one defined by him spending way more time than usual within these four walls…and with Daniela England. And now he had an idea of how broadly he might like that principle of ‘what was his was hers’ to apply, but knew it was a pipe dream he shouldn’t even waste his time thinking about.
She deserved more than his uncharmed life.
When the final scene faded off the screen, Sean said, “So what did you think?” Which was when he realized that Dani had fallen asleep. He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, D?”
Nothing. She was out cold. The LED on the cable box read 12:35. Sean knew she didn’t have to be to work until tomorrow evening, so he gently slid out from under the pillow, turned, and with a grimace he was glad she wasn’t awake to see, he lifted her into his arms.
God, she felt so fuckin’ good curled in against his chest.
He was carrying her up the basement steps when her eyes open and gazed up at him all soft and warm. “You’re carrying me again,” she said in a voice that sounded half-asleep.
“Yep.”
“Put me down,” she said, her eyelids sagging.
He chuckled. “Okay.”
“Mean it.”
“I know.”
By the time he’d made it back up to his bedroom, his chest was a three-alarm fire, but it was worth it when he laid her down on his bed.
She stretched. “I can go home.”
Stay, he thought, liking the thought of her sleeping in his bed. Maybe too much. “It’s late. Might as well sleep here.”
“‘kay.” Her hands went to the button on her mini-skirt, and then she was clumsily pushing the denim over her hips. Damnit all to hell but he found it appealing not just because of how fuckin’ gorgeous she was, but because the action wasn’t sexual. It was just her getting comfortable for bed. And somehow that struck him as even more intimate.
He helped pull the covers up over her, then ducked into the bathroom. When he was finished there, he made for the door. “Night.”
Dani pushed up onto an elbow. “Wait. Where are you going?”
“Oh, uh, downstairs. I figured…the couch.”
“Stay.” She flipped back the covers and scooted to the far side of his big bed.
Satisfaction jolted through Sean’s gut. The repetition of the word he’d just thought had him crossing the room and getting into bed until they were laying on their sides facing each other. Staring at each other. Just an arm’s reach apart.
“Can I ask you a question?” he said.
For a moment, hesitation played around those striking black eyes, but she finally nodded. “Sure.”
“Why did you say you wished you’d known about superheroes when you were a kid?”
* * *
Two reactions coursed through Dani—relief that he hadn’t asked why she’d been so upset at the restaurant, and uncertainty about how much to share in answer to the question he had asked. A third reaction followed close behind—appreciation. Appreciation that Sean had remembered what she’d said. Appreciation for the sincerity in his gaze as he lay there looking at her. Appreciation of the fact that something was happening between them—whether she knew what to do with that or not.
Life hadn’t surprised her in a good way in a lot of years, and a part of her was opening to something she didn’t truly understand. It made her feel good. It made her feel better. But why did feeling better have to come at once with a sort of shame. Like doing better was an affront to Anthony’s memory.
