***
She was featherlight, all things considered. Curves, soft and round, her limbs slack against mine, her warmth bleeding through the fabric of her shirt, stirring up thoughts I had no business entertaining. Her breath came in short bursts against my collarbone and I forced my focus on getting her upstairs, not on the way she smelled—bright citrus with a trace of sweetness.
“Tally,” I said, brushing her cheek with mine, just enough to coax her back to consciousness. “Come on, now, darlin’. Stay with me.”
Her lashes fluttered as if she’d been pulled from a deep dream. “Oh no,” she groaned, already beginning to curl inward, trying to disappear from the moment.
“This is very dramatic,” I told her, shifting my grip so I wouldn’t drop her on the tile. “You know, if you wanted to hang out with me, there were easier ways.”
“Kill me,” she muttered, her voice hoarse.
“I considered it,” I said, moving toward the alley door. “But I figured bringing you to your brother so he could finish the job was more civilized.”
She blinked up at me again. Her skin was too pale, her features slack with exhaustion. “I’m sorry, Charlie.”
In the hallway, we were met with the sight of Hoyt standing beneath a length of crooked caution tape, clipboard mid-air, expression frozen between panic and apology.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Pruitt,” he said, straightening his tie with one hand and gesturing toward the elevators with the other. “Small hiccup in the system. Should be back up in just a minute or two. Tally, my dear, are you all right?”
“She’s fine,” I said, not slowing down. “Probably her low blood sugar. She’ll be okay.”
I didn’t mention that she’d collapsed in my arms or that she had the cold sweats and fought my help because she didn’t want to seem fragile. I also didn’t mention how her fingers had curled into the back of my hair like they knew exactly where to land. I just kept walking.
Hoyt chuckled, completely oblivious. “My Charlotte is as stubborn as a mule, too. Women, huh?”
I didn’t answer. I was too focused on how tightly Tally had started to hold on as I approached the stairs.
“You really don’t have to do this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m not risking a second tumble because you’re too stubborn to ask for help.”
“This is so embarrassing.”
“For both of us. I’m shirtless and covered in sawdust, and you’re melting into my shoulder. We’re a mess.”
That made her laugh, low and tired. Her head tipped against me, and I adjusted my grip again, climbing steadily.
“Stop squirming,” I said as we rounded the third floor.
“Then stop frowning and muttering under your breath,” she shot back.
“This is just how my face looks, Tally.”
She looked up at me with glassy eyes and said, “Not when you look at me.”
I almost tripped up the stairs and took us both down and out.
By the time I reached the penthouse and shouldered the door open, my arms were aching, my back was damp with sweat, andthe thoughts in my head were a little too loud. Like the one that kept wondering what it would feel like to carry her into the bedroom and close the door behind us.
I laid her gently on the couch and pulled the throw blanket around her, keeping my hands steady.
Her eyes blinked open, still heavy. “Are you done playing knight in sweaty armor?”
“Just making sure you don’t roll off the couch and give me another reason to have to pick you up.”
“I was going to sit down.”
“Sure, you were. You were about to take a nosedive into the floor.”
