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“Shut up, you eejit. I meant for you to sit up so I can clean your wound. You don’t want to get an infection, especially so close to your eye.”
“Why do you have to ruin my fun, love?”
Doing as I ask, he pulls himself up with a grunt. “It’s only a cut, Saoirse. Trust me, I’ve had far worse.”
The sadness in his eyes halts my breath, but now is not the time to dive into the meaning behind them. “Just sit still and let me clean it, please.”
“If you insist.” He sways forward, bringing his face closer to mine, leaving only mere inches between our lips. Suddenly, a thought strikes me out of nowhere.
My God, this man has had me in many vulnerable positions, and we’ve never even kissed.My eyes flick towards his mouth, and I wonder what it would be like to be consumed by his mouth. No!Stop, no! We are not going there.
Dragging my gaze back up, our eyes connect, but I fight past the pitter-patter of my heart and do what I set out to do. I raise my hand and slowly press the cotton pad against the congealed blood that has dried into his brow, taking extra care so I don’t hurt him.
With his eyes burning into the side of my face, and the heat of his warm breaths brushing against my skin, I find it extremely hard to concentrate, but finally, I finish, and then pull back, needing to add some space between us.
“There, all done.”
His gaze lingers for a beat, and then he shoots me a wink before he flops back again, nestling against my pillow. “You smell good too, you know. Like lavender and pomegranates.”
"You’re not sleeping here,” I announce as he pulls the duvet over his body, ignoring me.
“I think I am, love. Now, be a doll and flick off that lamp. It’s blinding my eyes.”
“Rohan,” I warn.Nothing.“Rohan!’’ I call again, this time shoving his shoulder. But again, nothing. Suddenly, his breathing thickens, and I know I’m fighting a losing battle.
“This is a bad idea,” I announce to nobody in particular.
“Come to bed, love. Drunk Rohan loves snuggles.”
“GO TO SLEEP OR GET OUT!” I whisper-shout as I begin making myself up a bed on the small reading nook beneath the window. There isn’t a chance in hell I’m getting into that bed next to him.
“Fine, be a party pooper,” he utters before bringing my duvet beneath his chin and snuggling in. Once I think he’s finally dozed off, I pull the throw cover off the end of the bed, but right as I’m about to settle onto my makeshift one, he mutters my name, halting me on my feet. “Saoirse?”
“Yes, Rí?”
“Did you clean Liam’s wounds too?”
The question comes out of left field, and my reply lodges in my throat. What is it about these two? “Erm, I don’t think you have the right to ask me that?”
He bolts up, knocking the blankets off him. “I don’t share my toys, love.”
His possessiveness irks me, and in the next breath, I do what I should have done as soon as I found him here.
“I’d like you to leave. Now!”
