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“Help yourself to anything in the fridge. I need a shower.”
I nod, watching as he takes his duffel bag and walks through the only doorway leading off this postage-stamp-sized, open-plan living area, the door snapping tightly shut behind him.
I’m not used to poking around in someone else's space – that would be rude – but hetoldme too… and there really isn’t anything else to do. This place is smaller than whereIgrew up in Dot. If you had shown me a picture and said someone who owned an SUV with all the fancy trimmings like Paddy lived in a place likethis? I would have laughed until I cried.
I wander around the living area and into the kitchen with nothing else to do, opening the cabinets and the fridge. I find a well-used first aid kit underneath the sink and pull it out, leaving it on the counter. His knuckles were raw and bloody, and there was all that wincing, so he might want it. There isn’t much else to look at, so I sit at the breakfast bar, waiting for him to emerge and tell me what will happen.
My eyes dart around the space again. It’s kind of fascinating. It’s a very functionally furnished apartment. No homey extras, almost like a hotel suite.
Sofa, TV, coffee table, two bar stools, and a bookshelf with about twelve books. That’s it. That’s all the furnishings. There aren’t even any pictures.
The shower shuts off from the other room, snapping me out of my reverie. I stare at my hands folded on the breakfast bar before me. I don’t have to wait long before the bedroom door creaks open. Turning my head, I watch Paddy saunter out, my mouth dry again.
He might be more covered up than when he fought, but he’s still as yummy. His hair is damp from his shower, and he’s wearing a pair of low-slung sweats and a white tee shirt. Now he is no longer covered in blood, I can see a faint bruise starting to show on his left cheekbone.
His eyes roam over me, falling on the first aid kit sitting near me. He crosses the room, easing himself onto the barstool beside me, wincing again, reaching for it. Oh, at least this is somewhere I can make myself useful.
Flipping the kit open, he rummages until he finds some antibiotic ointment. After many fights, I’ve cleaned Josh up, so I reach over automatically. He glances up in surprise when I take it off him but doesn’t speak when I stand, moving between his legs as I tend to his knuckles. Instead, he watches my face intently, which isn’t helping my whole dry-mouth situation.
“You fight well,” I say when the silence has stretched enough to make me want to squirm. Well, the silence and the heat and weight of his eyes on my face.
Paddy shrugs, continuing to stare at me. A hint of a blush spreads across my cheeks under his intense scrutiny.
“You’re all done.”
I put the cap back on the ointment, placing it back in the first aid kit, flipping it shut. My fingers linger on it, my eyes glued to them.
I’m still standing between his legs. So awkward. God, I can be such a liability. I blame never having been this close to someone so good-looking.
Willing my feet to move, I step back, but I don’t get far. Paddy’s hands shoot out, landing on my hips and anchoring me in place. Oh, God. This is…intimate.
Lifting my eyes, I meet his heated gaze, all the words I was going to say drying up on my tongue. Paddy’s eyes dip to my mouth, his fingers tightening imperceptibly on my hips.
Because I’m such a liability, my tongue darts out to wet my lips at the force of his gaze. His pupils dilate, and his eyes darken. Paddy’s nostrils flare, his gaze moving back to meet mine, searching for something. I fight the urge to squirm, pressing my thighs together. God, he’ssogorgeous.
“Ye look tired,” he murmurs, a slight Irish brogue tingeing his voice. “Ye should get some sleep.”
Uh, where? His hands fall from my hips, and I feel strangely bereft but force myself to step away from him, walking across the small room to the sofa.
I jump when his voice sounds low in my ear, the heat of his body against my back like flames of awareness licking upward.
“Ye take the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
I can’t take hisbed! I swallow at the feel of Paddy’s breath against my ear, fighting another urge to shiver. If I stay with him so close, I’ll probably do something wicked stupid, like try to kiss him and get my ass kicked out of here. I step forward to avoid such a ridiculous notion, dropping onto the sofa and beaming up at him.
“I’m fine here.”
To illustrate my point, I kick off my shoes, curling my feet up underneath me. My response has him frowning.
“It’s not the most comfortable,” he starts, sounding a little uncertain. I have no idea why, but I get the feeling Paddy Flynn isn’t a man who is uncertain very often. I don’t manage to swallow my snort in time, his eyebrows shooting up at the sound.
“I spent last night trying not to fall asleep in a twenty-four-hour diner. This is plenty comfortable.”
His face darkens at my words, like the idea bothers him, but I lay down, closing my eyes and blocking him out. Although I’m in a strange place, with a strange, dangerous man who makes me feel things I really shouldn’t be, I’m asleep in less than five minutes.
Chapter Four
LAUREN
