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“I…I…” My jaw worked soundlessly. I had no idea how to tell him I needed him. I’d never said the words before.
Ronan nodded as if he’d heard me and his hard expression softened. “You want some water?”
“Now that you mention it…”
“Go lie down and I’ll bring it,” he said, and I knew what he was doing. Sparing us the awkwardness of walking into my bedroom together.
In my room, I turned on the rainbow lights; they gave a soft glow that was soothing after the harsh hospital fluorescents. I sank heavily on my bed and kicked off my shoes. My strength was draining out minute by minute. I tipped over and curled up on my side, head on the pillow.
Ronan came in, a glass of water in hand. His inherent sexiness that was raw and potent was made beautiful by the multicolored lights.
He set the glass on the nightstand next to a photo of Violet and me when we were kids. His gaze swept the room, taking in my art and scribblings and ceramics, his hands in his pockets as if to keep from touching anything.
I pushed myself to sitting and took a long pull of water. I set the glass down with a shaky hand and nearly knocked it off the table. Ronan’s hand shot out and steadied it.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I curled back up. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t think so.”
He nodded again and took off his jacket, revealing a black T-shirt. In the dim light, he was mostly black—shirt, hair, the tattoos that inked his perfect arms. He sat on the floor beside my bed, his jacket tucked behind him like a pillow.
“What are you—?”
“I’m staying until you fall asleep.”
I studied his profile, his lips that had been on me, my mouth, my skin…
A pleasurable shiver slipped through me, then faded out. Something had spooked him that afternoon we kissed. His own baggage, maybe. Stuff he wouldn’t tell me.
“I’m no better,” I muttered, my thoughts getting ahead of my tired brain and escaping.
Ronan’s head turned to me. “What…?”
“I didn’t tell you everything. Back at the hospital.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“I know. Neither one of us are very good at this—talking about our stuff. I need to, but I can’t if you’re all the way down there on the floor.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m not going to ask anything of you, Ronan. We’re not…compatible,” I said with an ache in my chest. “Or maybe we have too much stuff in the way, but…I’d like you to come up here. No kissing. I know you think that was a mistake.”
He stiffened. “Shiloh…”
“It’s okay. It was. Because I’m kind of a mess, though no one knows it. But I want to come clean a little. Okay?”
He hesitated, then nodded. I scooted over until my back was touching the wall, and Ronan sat on the edge of my full-sized bed. His weight made it dip, my heart dipping with it, my stomach fluttering. He took off his boots and then maneuvered his large body to lie down next to me on his side so that we were face to face in the dark.
This close, the masculine beauty of his face resting on my pillow was almost overwhelming. I shut my eyes.
“I didn’t think it was possible to be this tired.”
“You should sleep.”
“Then I’ll be alone. And I’m so tired of being alone.”
Ronan said nothing for a moment, then sighed, his breath warm and clean. “Me too.”
