“Take care of her. We’ll talk later.”
I slipped the phone away, and on the bed, Georgie moved restlessly. I sat beside her and brushed my fingers across her uninjured cheekbone.
“Shh, I’m here, Georgie. You’re not alone.”
She settled against my pillow instantly.
And I sat there in the darkness and watched her breathe. I stayed there until the pale light of dawn peeked around the curtains.
CHAPTER 14
GEORGIE
God, how had my lumpy motel bed turned so soft and comfy?
Hmm, I must be having a good dream.
I opened my eyes. Sunlight filled the room in the way only bright Las Vegas sunshine could.
I froze.
This wasnotmy crappy motel room. I blinked rapidly.
The room was decorated in dark grays and blues. A sleek, wooden dresser was pressed against the wall. A framed photo of Las Vegas at night hung above it.
I turned my head and noted three things. One, there was a vase of gorgeous orchids on the bedside table. They were white and purple, and so beautiful.
Two, I was hurt. I felt a familiar tightness in my face and my ribs were aching again. I lifted my hand and gently probed the swelling around my eye. Yep, it wasn’t good, but I wasn’t in agony. I had vague recollections of someone urging me to take some pills. A deep voice cloaked in darkness.
Three, the sheets smelled like Nash.
Nash.
Oh God.
I shot into a sitting position, which jolted me and sent several shots of pain through me. I swallowed a moan and touched my ribs. Bruno hadn’t gone easy.
Hell. The entire 3 AM attack hit me in gory detail. I’d blundered in and almost gotten myself killed.
Nash had saved me.
I was in Nash’s bed. And it looked like I was wearing his T-shirt. I plucked at the soft cotton that looked like it had been washed many, many times.
The bedroom door opened and the man in question strode in.
Suddenly, my aches faded. He wore a pair of jeans that looked ancient and hugged his strong thighs. I suspected they hugged his ass, as well, but I couldn’t confirm from this angle.
I didn’t have time to contemplate that, because he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His chest was fully on display.
Oh. The jolt of desire I felt was at odds with getting beaten nearly to a pulp. Yet, all that tan skin, all those muscles…
The man had abs that made me itch to touch. I twisted my hands together in my lap. He had a light dusting of brown hair across his pecs. A man’s chest. Not some pretty, waxed and oiled calendar model.
“Hey.” He was carrying a wooden tray. “How are you feeling?”
“Um… Okay.”
He set the tray down beside the flowers on the bedside table.
