Sort of.
I was shivering, and I frowned at how dry my throat was. And it was that distraction that had me noticing that I wasn’t justsittingup, my back was propped up against something that wasn’t the wall. What…?
There was a thigh on either side of me, two big feet planted flat on the floor. It was on those raised knees that a wrist was propped up on each of them. It was the full-looking forearms covered in a familiar, gray-colored material that had me blinking. They were connected to sturdy elbows and full, strong biceps bracketing my shoulders.
I was wrapped up in the hoodie. Buzzing bare skin was touching parts of me.
Oh.
Scrunching up my face, I licked my lips and tried to tilt my head back and to the side.
He didn’t make it easy for me either, not moving at all. It wasn’t until the back of my head touched what had to be his shoulder, my cheek to his bare chest, that I finally got a good look at the face above and behind me.
Like I didn’t already have every inch of it memorized.
Smooth, healthy cheeks. A mouth with two full, dark pink lips. Brilliant purple eyes that flashed from beneath dark eyebrows.
I blew out a breath slowly, confused and miserable.
Then, tucking in my chin and dropping my eyes, I took in the definite fullness at the shoulder in my view.
At the bicep muscles that had been personal pillows.
The thigh at my hip seemed to bulge at the seams of the sweatpants he had on. He’d put my head on it. More than once, I was pretty positive.
Tipping my head, my eyes stung, and those dark eyelashes dropped, and the man who looked an awful lot like The Defender, but better, scowled.
“What are you crying for?” He frowned.
I felt one little tear slide down my cheek a moment before I whispered, “Am I… dead?”
His snicker caught me off guard. “You’re not fucking dead.”
His chest was almost warm, and my skin tingled just a little bit where it touched his. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”The handsome face hovering above me dipped, and his nostrils flared before he frowned. It looked like someone had lit a flashlight beneath his skin, making him damn near practically glow with health or power, or maybe even both. “Your fever is still high but not high enough for you to be delusional.”
I reached up with an arm that felt too heavy and touched his cheek lightly, taking in the firmness.
He felt real.
I couldn’t help it. I was too focused on the perfect planes and the magical muscles. And there was the fever. And that’s what I was going to blame for moving my finger to touch the corner of his mouth as I whispered, “You really are pretty.”
“And you’re sick and could use mouthwash,” the grump replied.
It was so mean, but I still snorted weakly, and the familiar-unfamiliar face scowled down at me even more.
“Stop it.”
“You keep saying that like I have a choice,” I croaked.
The thigh on my right pressed closer to my hip.
“Why are you still here?” I asked before I could stop myself and really think about what I was pointing out to him. “Can’t you leave already?”
Those purple eyes bore into me, and his brows dropped on his high forehead. “Yeah.”
So then why?
