AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I tip my chin up. “I’m perfectly capable of being by myself."
“Says the girl who didn’t listen to me. Didn’t ask for help, and very possibly could have face-planted in the shower and sprained or worse, fractured her other wrist.”
“None of that happened.” I wave my good wrist, internally groaning when my breasts sway with the motion.
His eyes darken, but he fixes his attention on my face. I don’t think I would have the same restraint.
“But it could have,” he says, stalking forward again. “So be a good girl, take the towel, wrap your body, and let me take you to my room. Tomorrow, I will make sure everything is set up. That way, you don’t have to move unless you have support.”
I let out a giant groan.
“Fine.” I hold out my good hand. “Just hand me the damn towel. I’m cold, and I’ll do whatever you want just to shut you up.”
He wears his smile like a trophy. He won, and now he’s basking in his winnings.
He hands me the fluffy towel that was out of reach. I quickly wrap it around my wet body as best I can. I don’t miss the way he trails his gaze over my skin, and if I were in my right mind, I would probably relish it and taunt him.
But after all this movement, I’ve exerted too much energy, and I’m exhausted. I have no fight left in me.
So, I don’t do anything.
There’s no witty rebuttal.
I allow myself to be picked up, yet again. I close my eyes once I’m in his arms. His cologne lingers in my nostrils. It makes me feel safe. It is a complete contradiction to how I felt earlier.
We walk back into the room, and he places me on his bed.
“I’ll be right back.”
I adjust the towel around my chest. “Where are you going?”
“To get you something to wear to sleep.”
He walks into the closet, then a moment later, he returns holding a black T-shirt.
I lift a brow. “That’s not mine.”
“You’re right. It’s not. Great detective skills, Sherlock.” He clutches it tight in his grip, eyes drifting to my collarbone. “You need something to wear. It’s late at night, and I don’t want to rummage through your stuff.”
“That kind of makes sense,” I mutter under my breath.
Trent crosses the space and stands in front of me. His hand reaches out with the shirt at the same time I do. Our fingers touch. A heady sensation washes over me, but I push it down.
I can’t think of him this way.
I can’t read into the way he looks at me.
I can’t remember our kiss. Or the way he held my hand throughout my time in the hospital.
This is stupid, Payton. Get your act together.
“Everything okay?” Trent interrupts my inner rambling.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
“Maybe because you were shaking your head.”
“Oh.” I fumble for an excuse. “I must be more tired than I realized . . .”
