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A strangled sound tore from my throat, and I practically recoiled. “You mean someone else picked this stuff?”
I didn’t like that. Not at all. I was instantly assaulted by images of Arsen and some woman shopping for sheets together. Of them laughing over the fabric and her rubbing her hand on it.
I started tapping against the outside of my thigh. One, two, three. One, two, three. When the tension in me kept building, I rubbed my bare foot against the horrible carpet and itched the inside of my elbow.
“Matthew.” Arsen’s stern voice snapped my eyes up. He grabbed my forearm, pulling it out so he could look down at my arm and scowl. “What the hell is this?”
I followed his angry stare to the place where my arm bent, noting the red skin that was dotted with small purple spots where my roughness had caused bleeding just beneath the skin. It sort of looked like a rash, but it was caused by my fingers.
“Did you do this to yourself?” he demanded.
I didn’t care for his attitude, so I ripped my arm from his grasp and stepped away.
His eyes narrowed, instantly zeroing in on the way I planted one foot on top of the other. “Let me see your foot.”
“No.”
Incredulous, he barreled forward, catching me around the waist to lift and drop me on the bed. Maybe I should have been offended, but the deepest part of me was too excited he manhandled me the way he did.
Refusing to show it, I glared at him.
Unbothered, he grabbed my leg and lifted, effectively tipping me over onto my back on the mattress. I knew my foot probably looked like my arm the second I saw his face pinch.
Still holding me by the ankle, he glared at me. “Does this hurt?”
Oh. That wasn’t what I was expecting.
What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy? This is unacceptable. That was what I expected to hear.
“Matthew.”
“It stings,” I allowed, staring up at the white ceiling. “The carpet is itchy.”
“Why aren’t you wearing socks?”
“I was.” I didn’t bother to explain they were like straitjackets for toes.
Sighing, he lowered my leg and stepped back. Suddenly, my stomach felt hollow, and panic clawed its way up the back of my throat.
Pushing up into a sitting position, I tucked my feet under me, watching Arsen warily. Wondering if he would go back out the way he came or stomp his way downstairs to the front door.
“No one else picked this stuff,” he said, reminding me all over again of the reason I freaked out. Surprisingly, I hadn’t had time to fixate on it because I went right into worrying he’d be mad about the itching. Then about him hauling ass out of here.
“It was only me. I just told the woman what I was after, and she pointed down an aisle.” He went on, a popping sound filling the bedroom as he yanked the tags and ribbon off a folded blanket. “I’d never let someone else pick something you’re going to be sleeping on.”
The blanket snapped when he shook it out, the large size of it unfolding. Coming forward, he draped it around my back, not hesitating to settle the weight of it on my shoulders and tug it around my chest.
Squatting in front of me, his knees brushed the side of the mattress, the position making it so I was slightly higher on the bed. Saying nothing, he pulled more of the blanket around until I was drowning in the softest fabric I’d ever felt.
It was fluffy without being fur, plush without being squishy, and warm without being heavy. Making a small sound, I curled my fingers into the edges to surround myself even more. “It’s pink,” I pointed out unnecessarily. It wasn’t a bright shade, though, but pale. Quiet.
My overstimulated system nearly wept with relief.
“It’s soft and precious just like you,” he whispered.
For the first time in forever, I knew a burst of frustration at the AirPods in my ears. The ASMR playing blocked his voice, and though I read his lips easily, I wanted to hear his words.
Quickly, I tugged out the earbuds, dropping them in my lap. “Say it again.”
