I have—had—a small room. Just big enough for my bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and a small desk. Floor space to lay out one pair of jeans, but only if they were a size six. It was plain, and cute with a couple of posters on the walls.
But now it’s huge.
I glance behind me, because for a moment I wonder if I somehow came to the wrong floor and… Yeah. Extreme tiredness can cause hallucinations. Maybe extreme horniness can too?
Except, that is my bedding. Neatly on a new solid wood bedframe that looks like it would survive an apocalypse, it’s so heavy looking. Or out-last a Reid-renovation.
The walls have been knocked-through, and my bedroom expanded into the room next door, so it’s enormous. There’s the most beautiful wallpaper that’s a light-blue with flowers and birds on it. It’s stunning. Or at least, I am stunned. The floor is some sort of hardwood, with rugs so fluffy you could sleep on them. I know without looking that the huge wardrobe has all my belongings carefullytransferred into it. And where I had a few favourite paperbacks on a tiny shelf, there are now shelves all along one wall. And tucked into a corner are my books. A bit pathetic amongst all this beauty, but mine nonetheless.
I grasp the handrail as I stumble back downstairs, and find Reid in the room he’s taken over as his office. He smiles as he looks up, and my stupid heart jumps, and I return it. Is he really pleased to see me?
I collapse into a chair and shake my head. “I should probably be annoyed that you broke into my room.”
“Technically, we didn’t open your door.” His smile slips to a smug expression. “So no contractual issues.”
“You just dismantled the whole wall.” It’s an accusatory statement, but joy is bubbling up.
“Unavoidable repairs. Apologies for any inconvenience.” He’s enjoying this. There’s a sparkle in his eyes.
“You’re unbelievable.” But it’s a compliment, and we both know it.
“Do you like it?”
I put my chin on my hands and my elbows on my knees. “I love it.”
There are no other words.
“Excellent. I aim to be a good landlord. And roommate.”
The multiple meanings of that second word sparks between us. As in, him, in my room. He hasn’t tried anything with me. But I think I’d like it if he did.
I’m the first one to break the moment. To remind us both what this is about. “Shall we clean your arm?”
“Of course.” He nods amicably, as though he’s doing me the favour. Which, it turns out, is kind of true?
I’m developing a taste for seeing Reid half-dressed. Iwonder if he knows this is a transparent way for me to be able to see him with his top off, and touch him?
Despite his injury, he moves like a cat, all casual grace, as if it would take a hurricane to shake him. A bullet? Pah. Didn’t stand a chance.
On the sofa in the lounge, he goes through the whole slow process of stripping to the waist, and I pretend not to look. I busy myself fiddling with the dressings and checking the distilled water. Like it might have changed since I last looked. I don’t want Reid to know that I’m gawking at his masculine beauty.
I fail.
As he flicks off the second cufflink, he catches me staring at his strong wrists, the dark hair and the fading out of the tattoos making him even more compelling.
The corner of his mouth quirks upwards.
And then he slides the shirt off. He doesn’t need to remove it completely, but he does, and… Oooff. That moment when he’s fully exposed should be vulnerable, but instead, he wields his beauty like a weapon. Flushing, and trying to control my breath, I sit next to him.
“Does it hurt?” I carefully remove the dressing, and suck in a breath when I see where his arm is gaped open. It’s getting more and more painful for me to look at his injury, even as he’s healing day by day.
“A bit,” he acknowledges.
I frown. “I can get you some?—”
“I don’t need anything,” he cuts me off.
“It doesn’t?—”
