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She felt her cheeks get hot. “Behave, Mr. Quinn. This is a take-it-or-leave-it invitation with an expiration.”
He held up both hands. “Got it. But, India?”
“Yes?”
“Please be careful getting ready for bed. If you feel dizzy or faint, sit down immediately.”
“I will.”
When he was gone, she exhaled. It was hard to be injured and still keep up her defenses against Farris. Letting him spend the night was one more example of her weakness where he was concerned. This setup was a little too cozy. To a stranger, they would look like husband and wife.
India had to keep reminding herself that they weren’t.
It took her longer than it should to change into pajamas, but she brushed her teeth and was in bed leaning against the headboard before Farris returned. Even though her body ached all over, seeing her ex-husband striding across the room toward the bed made her heart do a funny little flip.
And her insides buzzed.
Why did he have to be so gorgeous and sexy and appealing? His grin was better than any drug. When he smiled at her like that, she had hope.
“I brought stuff for your face,” he said. “You probably should leave it uncovered as much as you can during the day, but I know you don’t want to get blood on your pillow.” When he sat down on the edge of the bed, she resisted the urge to put distance between them.
“Thank you.”
He was silent as he uncapped the antibiotic ointment, spread a small amount on the cut and then layered it with a flexible fabric bandage. The spot where the rock had ripped up her cheek was an awkward one. But the covering he had chosen would move with her face to some extent.
When he was done, he went into her bathroom and washed his hands.
Despite the fact that they had so recently been intimate, India felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment when he returned and climbed into her bed. Planning to have sex was one thing. Sleeping together when they weren’t a couple felt odd and wrong.
He handed her a bottle of water and a couple of pills that he had put on the nightstand earlier. “Take these,” he said.
She didn’t bother to argue. Her head and her hip were killing her.
Farris fluffed pillows and made a nest. “Come here, Inkie. Let me hold you.”
He was naked from the waist up. In fact, the only thing he wore was a pair of navy knit sleep pants. Underneath those, he was nude. India knew this for two reasons. One, it would never occur to Farris that he needed underwear with his jammies. And two, she could see the outline of his erection.
It didn’t mean anything. Most men would respond the same when going to bed with a woman, a lover. It was a reflex action. No reason to be flattered.
Torn between reluctance and yearning, she scooted over, wincing and groaning when her body protested. Farris pulled her into his chest and curled an arm around her shoulder, petting it. “I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
She sighed, her good cheek smashed against a mile of hot male skin. “It’s not so bad if I don’t move.”
He rested his chin on top of her head. “Were you serious about the movie?”
“If you can find anything good to watch, sure.”
Farris picked up the remote and aimed it at the TV. India inhaled slowly, breathing in the scent of his shower soap and the male smell that was simply him. Surely, after the day she’d had, it wasn’t so wrong to drift. To enjoy the moment.
All the problems and realities were still there. Farris had ended their marriage...lied to her by omission. Kept some huge, awful secret. And, honestly, even though she still loved him, the reverse wasn’t true.
No man who truly loved a woman would shut her out and send her away.
She must have dozed at some point. When she surfaced the next time, sitting up and eyeing him warily, Farris was halfway through a superhero movie.
He brushed the hair from her sweaty cheek. “How do you feel?” he asked, his voice low and rumbly.
“I’m okay.” The medication had done its work. The pain was dulled. “Why do you have the sound muted?”
