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“Here?”
“No,” I snapped. “It hurts all over.”
He thinned his mouth, clearly not suicidal enough to smile at me right now. “That’s actually a good thing.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“It means it’s more likely to be a sprain than a fracture or a break.”
I waved a hand impatiently. “Didn’t we decide it was a sprain yesterday?”
“Injuries like these can be tricky.” His eyes found mine and I tried not to remember gazing into them the night before. In the semi-dark, as we kissed and fucked, and came together and broke apart. “I just want to be sure you shouldn’t be in A&E.”
“I’ll go when it’s not Christmas Day,” I muttered. “I’m sure the NHS has enough on its hands right now without having to deal with a man who was attacked by a puddle.”
Leo was giving me a look that suggested he was not convinced.
“I will.” God, it was annoying, having to reassure people. It had been bad enough when I was in a relationship, but Leo was a stranger. I didn’t owe him a damn thing. “And I don’t remember consenting to a game of doctor.”
“Okay.” He sat back on his heels. “But I should at least get you some more ice.”
“No need,” I said. “I should be going.”
“It’s a fair distance up the towpath.”
“It’ll be fine.” Actually, I had no idea how I’d make it to the road. But it seemed a better prospect just then than being stuck on a boat and looked afteryet againby a man I probably shouldn’t have fucked. And yet could not regret fucking.
His gaze drifted to the window. “I might be able to carry you…”
“You’re not carrying me.”
“I’ve got a wheelbarrow,” he suggested.
“You better be joking.”
He made a profoundly unconvincing attempt to hide his smile. “If you can give it a day or so, I can cruise to Folly Bridge and drop you off. And then you can have a friend, or a taxi, or whoever you like pick you up from there.”
“I’m not staying here fora day or two.” Belatedly, I realised that my voice contained a discourteous amount of horror. Not that I usually gave a fuck about being courteous. But he had given mea bed. And his body. “I mean”—I softened my tone—“that’s very generous of you. But I’m not really astayingperson.”
“Your ankle might have other ideas.”
I eyed him warily. “As do you apparently.”
“I just think you should give yourself time to recover.”
“Someone wants to get topped again,” I said in a singsong voice, flicking a finger against his nose.
The flash of impatience in his eyes was like lightning from an evening sky. Just a little bit exhilarating. “Yes, I’m so desperate to get laid, I’ll keep someone here against their will—”
“It’s not against my will,” I admitted. Reluctantly.
“Against their preference, then.”
It wasn’t really against my preference either. It just felt wrong that it wasn’t. A trap I was setting for myself when I should have known better.
“Look,” he went on, “if you really have to leave now, I’ll take you.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Urgh. What was I doing? We were both all too aware that I had zero chance of getting anywhere on my own.
