The kiss was tender and soft. It would’ve almost been innocent if it wasn’t for the fire that ignited deep in my core.
I lingered there, my lips pressed to her smooth skin. It would’ve been so easy to move lower. To brush my mouth against hers. To cover her lips with mine and see what would happen.
Her breaths ghosted over my throat, searing my skin.
What the hell was this woman doing to me?
Part of me felt like I was losing my damn mind when I was this close to her. All I wanted was more. More of her warmth. More of her softness. More of the way she looked at me like I wasn’t broken.
I pulled away abruptly.
I jerked all the way to the edge of the bed, avoiding that wide-eyed gaze because if I saw hope there—if I sawinvitation—I wasn’t sure I’d stop myself.
She’d ruin me, or I’d ruin her.
The thing was…part of me wanted to let her.
It had been so long since I’d felt the need to touch someone. Since I’d wanted to be touched in return.
I turned onto my back and faced the ceiling.
“Get some sleep, Palmer.” My voice came out rough, almost choked. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
21
Palmer
Ibarelyrecognizedmyself.
My reflection in the bathroom mirror looked ragged and tired. The bathroom connected to my room was warm, but a shiver ran down my spine anyway. All night, sleep came in disrupted spurts, chased away by the pain in my hands or the memories of flames.
And Roman Ramsey right next to me.
A blush bloomed on my cheeks as I remembered waking up wrapped in Roman’s arms. He’d stayed the entire night in my bed, keeping watch over me and sleeping off the lingering fever. He only left to bring Hailey to school, and I felt like I could finally breathe.
I glanced at my forehead through the mirror, where Roman had kissed me.
The sensation of Roman’s lips on my brow had my stomach tumbling. It was nothing but a chaste press of his mouth, but it felt like more.
I want you.
His words whispered through my mind.
I wanted to believe him and those pretty, dangerous words. I was supposed to be keeping my guard up with Roman and Hailey, and the fact that I was failing was ever clearer. When the inevitable time came—when they didn’t need me anymore—it might crush me in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to chase away thoughts of Roman and his nice words and perfect lips.
I inspected my hands instead.
They really did hurt. Worse than yesterday. But I had some movement in my fingers. I’d managed to wipe the grime off my skin with a wet, soapy rag, but now that I’d put on fresh clothes, it was almost impossible to ignore how dirty my hair was.
It smelled like sharp, nauseating smoke and felt greasy at the roots. I had no idea how I would manage to wash it in a way that left it in decent condition.
I examined my bandages, flexing my fingers as much as I dared.
Pain shot across my skin, and I cried out softly. My palms had gotten the worst of the damage, but my fingers were still so sore.
Maybe if I was really, really careful—
