Declan spent most of that time in the lounge reading or answering and making telephone calls. He’d had several visitors, predominantly Thea Morgan and Fergus Wynter. They had visited several times together.
Fergus had come on his own once, and Fawn had clearly heard him growl at Declan to “hurry the fuck up and get better so you can walk my bride down the aisle.” Fergus’s impatience to marry the love of his life could clearly be heard in the fierceness of his tone. Just as Thea’s stubborn insistence to have Declan be the one to walk her down the aisle was unrelenting. Declan had been smiling when Fergus left, so he obviously wasn’t in the least bothered by the other man’s frustration.
In between admitting visitors, Fawn took care of washing and cleaning, making Declan drinks, and planning and cooking their meals, as well as giving her patient his pain meds at the appropriate times.
Who knew it would be the changing of the dressings on Declan’s naked and deliciously muscular back that would become Fawn’s daily torment?
Declan usually sat on the bed with his back toward her, nullifying their height difference and so allowing Fawn to remove the old dressings and clean the wounds before applying new ones.
Declan had such a broad torso and wide shoulders, the muscles defined. Touching all that bare flesh caused Fawn’s breath to catch in her throat and her hands to tremble slightly. Every time.
She really, really hoped that Declan hadn’t noticed either of the latter, but she somehow knew that those shrewd blue eyes understood exactly what her reaction was to seeing and touching his bare skin.
But neither of them spoke of it.
No, instead, that total physical awareness stretched between the two of them as if there was an invisible wire extending from Fawn’s fingertips and pulling on her taut nipples and the swollen berry between her thighs.
It had become so intense that Fawn’s calls to River every morning and evening were her only respite from this total sexual awareness of Declan, whether they were in the same room or otherwise.
Luckily, all those phone calls had resulted in River reassuring her of his continued well-being, even if he could be a little testy at times.
Fawn couldn’t fault him for that, knowing she would probably feel the same way in his position. She also refused to apologize for her fussing. This was the first time she could remember the two of them living apart, even if only for a few days, since River had moved to London to live with her almost three years ago.
She didn’t tell River about the men standing guard outside their apartment, making sure he remained safe. If it became necessary for her brother to know about the man hunting Declan, then Fawn would tell her brother about the situation, but for now, she didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily. With any luck, this man Koslov would very quickly be found and dealt with.
Fawn shied away from dwelling on thoughts of what “dealt with” might mean to men like Declan or the ruthless Nikolai Volkov who Declan had described to her.
Despite Fawn’s increasing arousal whenever she touched Declan, there had been no repeat of the kisses the two of them had shared that first evening.
Fawn wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Relief that they had managed to resume a nurse/patient relationship.
Disappointment, because she would be lying, mainly to herself, if she didn’t admit to aching inside for a repeat of those hungry kisses.
A constant longing that completely fled her thoughts when, on the fourth day of staying in Declan’s apartment with him, River failed to answer her morning telephone call.
She immediately sought out Declan, finding him in the kitchen where he was already preparing a pot of the strong coffee he seemed to enjoy in the mornings. He had been doing more and more things for himself, with no apparent signs of strain, so Fawn very much doubted he was going to need her for the whole two weeks.
“I have to go out,” she told him now without preamble, already pulling on her jacket after pushing her cell phone and credit cards into the back pocket of her jeans.
He turned to face her before answering. “I installed your thumbprint on the system and gave you the code to use the elevator only as a safety precaution because you asked me to and in case of an emergency. I’ve already explained that I don’t want you to use them?—”
“And I’mtellingyou that I have to go out!” She glared at him, sure that she must look like something feral, having no doubt her face was red, the expression in her eyes wild, and her long blonde hair a loose swirl about her shoulders.
She didn’t give a damn what she looked like. Her concern for River was all that was important, and she didn’t have time to be polite to Declan on the subject.
His eyes narrowed. “First, tell me why the urgency?”
“River isn’t answering my calls.”
His mouth twisted. “Maybe he’s hungover.”
“River doesn’t drink.”
“He works in a bar!”
“He still doesn’t drink alcohol.”
