Page 77 of Mile High Heist

“Jesus,” he said, skidding to a stop. “What the fu—”

“Hush, puppy,” Madoc said, his voice quiet but firm. Ryle’s mouth snapped shut obediently. Then Madoc turned to Olivia. “First aid kit.”

“Yeah,” Olivia said, looking at me. I didn’t like that look. Concerned. Worried. “I’ll find one. Just take him to one of the suites.”

We shuffled forward. Some of the passengers openly gawked at us, but Nate was quick to shut them down. I was still pissed at the idiot, but he was proving to be useful.

I blacked out for a hot minute and came back to life when I felt myself tipping back. I grappled automatically at Madoc, but then my back hit a mattress, and I groaned.

Exactly what the doctor ordered.

A bed. Dim lights. Minimal noise.

I was so tired, I’d probably slip into a coma and wouldn’t be mad about it.

Then I realized I still had my fist in Madoc’s shirt and forced myself to release him. He stood at the foot of the bed, between my knees, looking down at me.

“What?” I asked him, groggily.

He rolled his eyes. He stared at me for a beat longer, like I was a new puzzle for him to solve. He’d seen me in worse conditions. It wasn’t even the first time we’d shared a bed, if that was what was about to happen. But I made a point of not remembering that threesome we had a few years ago, or the fact that I had completely choked halfway through it.

Madoc’s attention was too much. Even in the dark—no, especially in the dark.

I opened my mouth, but then I felt the mattress dip and nearly swallowed my tongue. Madoc knelt over me, his movements careful, like I was easily spooked.

Had I already slipped into a coma?

“Stop thinking so much,” he said drily.

Then, like the asshole he was, he challenged my broken brain by reaching for my undershirt and lifting it over my head.

I’d never had someone undress me before, at least not like this. Usually, I was the one doing the undressing. I wasn’t a patient man, and it was always my intention to get naked as quickly as possible.

Then his hands reached for my pants. I caught his wrists, stopping him. My dumbass mouth couldn’t find words.

Slower, I wanted to say.

I needed to savor this shit.

Madoc pulled back, all the way, so he was no longer on the bed. I groaned again. That wasn’t what I meant.

“Don’t go,” I said, my voice gruff. Goddamn petulant.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re all the way over there.”

He was silent.

I craned my neck up so I could gauge his expression. He was closed off. Not blank but buried. He was feeling something, but whatever it was, he wasn’t going to let it out.

“I won’t touch you like this,” he said, leaning on the wall by the door.

“You can.”

“I won’t.”

My head thumped back in disappointment. I didn’t realize I’d passed out again until I felt hands on me. My eyes cracked open hopefully.