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“No, no. That’s okay. I’ll stick with the one I’ve got.”
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“No.”
“Do you want Tylenol?”
“No.”
“Then what do you want, besides to get out of bed and tear open your stitches?”
She looks so adorable standing there with her hands on her hips. The bruising on her face has almost completely faded, and the gash on her forehead is scabbing off. She’s been determined to take care of me once I was released from the hospital, and though I don’t need it, I don’t want to tell her to leave.
I like when she’s here.
With me.
I tug her hand until her knees hit the mattress beside me. “I want to read together.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yes.” I tap the book on my nightstand. “I’ve got my favorite right here. Go get yours.”
She bolts out of the room, and I chuckle at how excited she is. It makes me wonder how much she’s been missing out on in life if reading a book makes her this happy.
It also makes me realize how muchI’vebeen missing out on. When all my college friends were out partying and dating, I was mourning the loss of my mother. I exiled myself from everyone. I focused on getting a job and threw myself into work. I cut myself off from love and affection. Being around Phoenix has brought out a side of me I haven’t thought about in years. The way my pulse spikes when she looks at me. The way my stomach clenches when she smiles. The way my skin ignites when we touch. The way I lose all sense when I watch her lips moving as she talks. I was a cold, hollow shell until she moved next door. I want to care for her, protect her. Make her happy.
Andfuckdo I want to kiss her.
Phoenix blows back into my bedroom. “Okay, it was a difficult decision but I think I have the perfect book for you to read. It’s not cheesy. It’s realistic and emotional, and it has adventure and some mystery. I hope you—” She pauses as her eyes flick to mine. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yes, why?”
“You look a little flushed.”
Because I was just thinking about kissing you.“It’s a little warm in here. I’m fine.”
“Do you have a fever? I hope your wound isn’t getting infected.” She climbs onto the bed and presses her wrist against my forehead. Then she pulls up my T-shirt to inspect my hip. “You look okay.”
“Just okay?”
“I was talking about your stitches.” Her smile fades as she traces a slow circle around my wound. “The doctor said you were lucky. Another inch or two, and you might not have made it.”
“But I did. I’m here.” I reach up and tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear, toying with the ends of her silky chestnut strands. “So you don’t need to think about that.”
“I can’t help it. I care about you.”
I move her hand until it’s resting over my racing heart, letting her feel what she does to me. “I care about you too.”
A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips, and I’m tempted to lean forward and kiss her. To pull her onto my lap and feel her thighs on either side of me. To grip her hair and listen to her soft moans as she rocks her hips against mine.
But she clears her throat and pulls back. Handing me her book, she sits back against the headboard beside me. “Ready to read?”
I reach for my book on the nightstand and hand it to her. “Ignore the notes in the margins. I write down my thoughts as I read.”
