My eyes nearly roll back in my head.
Fucking hell. Get a grip, babes.
“Got ‘em,” he says, voice husky as he pulls them out, fingers grazing the skin at my waist where my T-shirt has ridden up even more.
The contact sends another jolt through me, and I have to force myself not to react.
He unlocks my door, pushes it open, and resting a gentle hand at the small of my back, guides me inside.
My apartment is dark except for the soft blue glow from Slash’s terrarium. The door closes behind us and Rowan guides me over to the couch.
“Sit,” he commands softly. “I’ll get you some water.”
I sink into the cushions, head spinning pleasantly as I kick my feet up on the coffee table. Slash bobs his head, tongue flicking curiously at the newcomer.
“Hey, buddy,” I mumble, waving listlessly in his general direction. “Look who’s here.”
Rowan returns with a glass of water, pressing it into my hands. “Drink this. All of it.”
“Bossy,” I mutter, gulping down the cool liquid.
He crouches in front of me, looking at me with a pair of damn hazel eyes that have haunted my dreams for as long as I can remember. “Let’s get you into bed, Sunshine.”
“I told you not to call me that,” I protest weakly as he takes the empty glass from my hands and sets it down on the coffee table.
“Sorry. Force of habit,” he says with a small smile. “Come on.”
Before I can argue, his arms slide under my legs and around my back, lifting me effortlessly off the couch, and I find myself cradled against his chest again.
“I said can walk,” I protest weakly, even as my head falls listlessly against his shoulder.
“I’m aware,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against my ear as he carries me over to my bed.
The room spins slightly as he lowers me onto my mattress. I sink into the soft comfort, limbs suddenly feeling like they’re made of lead. Rowan kneels before me, gently lifting one foot and then the other to remove my shoes.
“You don’t have to take care of me,” I mumble, watching him through half-lidded eyes.
“I know,” he says softly, setting my Chucks aside. “I want to.”
There’s something in his voice—a tenderness that cuts through my tequila-soaked brain—making my heart clench painfully in my chest. He pulls the comforter over me, carefully tucking it around my shoulders.
Brushing my hair away from my face, his fingers linger against my temple. This is the Rowan I remember. Not the world famous actor—just Ro. My Ro.
“I loved you too, you know,” I mumble, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “So much.”
thirty-one
My hand stalls mid-stroke,my brain freezing my lungs before I’m able to suck in a breath and respond, “I know, Sunshine. Me too.”
But she doesn’t hear me because she’s already asleep.
I give her smooth hair another soft stroke before I ease myself off the bed.
I should go.
But the thought of leaving her alone in the state she’s in doesn’t sit right with me. What if she wakes up sick? What if she needs something? The last thing I want is for her to hurt herself on the way to the bathroom if she happens to wake up needing to pee or puke.
My heart jackhammers against my ribs as her words echo in my head.
