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He stopped pacing and turned around, then adjusted himself and sat beside me, his gaze falling on my exposed swollen ankle.
“Did you just fall again?”
“I was trying to get changed into my pajamas,” I admitted, thinking that maybe rushing wasn’t such a brilliant idea after all. My plan to wear my ugliest but comfiest pajamas had failed miserably, and he’d seen all of me again.
“These fancy ones?” He held up my pajama bottoms.
“Hey,” I cautioned. “They’re my favorite.”
“Are they Care Bears?”
“Don’t knock it till you watch it.”
“I have. Lourde loved the Care Bears growing up. I was more into Masters of the Universe!”
I laughed, and any trace of humiliation had soon left the room.
“Let me help you. After all, I’m the one who got you in this situation.”
“I can do it,” I said, reaching for the pants out of his grasp.
“No, you can’t.” He flung them away and out of my reach. “Argue with me and I’ll have to strap you to the bed.”
I might like that.
“Pepper…”
“What?” I rolled my lips in, my chest rising and falling at the idea of his ties binding my hands together.
“There’s nothing more I’d like to see than you tied up with one of my neckties. But if you look at me like that again, I promise you it won’t end well.”
“Okay,” I breathed out on a sigh.
“I’m engaged, I can’t go back from that.” His hand went underneath the blanket, his thumb brushing my thigh as he pushed the rest of my dress and thong down past my ankles. I remained silent, letting him undress me.
I felt weak around him, my body buckling to his touch. As I took him in, torment stretched across the tightness in his jaw and the stiffness in his neck. He, too, was affected, fighting this just as much as me.
He reached for my bottoms and threaded them carefully around my sore ankle, then the other, before sliding them up my legs and past my knees. I lifted off the bedsheet and his fingers brushed past my thighs, causing me to take a sudden sharp breath when he reached the curve of my ass.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”
His hands lingered around the sides of my thighs, his face close to mine. A war played out behind his eyes.
I turned to quickly reach for the pajama shirt flinging it over my head and chest, then I gazed up to find him unmoving in his stare. Silence stretched out between us, and I ached for him to touch me. He tilted his head down, his lips parting.
“Go home to your fiancée, Connor.” I eventually bit out.
He moved back, creating space between us. “She’s not at my home.”
“Well, maybe she ought to be.” I pulled up the blanket so it covered my shoulders.
“I just came to see that you’re okay,” he said, his gaze sincere.
“Those guys were jerks, but nothing I couldn’t handle by myself.”
“You’re welcome,” he muttered.
“I didn’t ask for your help, Connor. Now look at what’s happened. It’s already in the media. Your father—”
