He checked his phone and saw a text from Rogue. He sent him a quick message telling him they were awake but wouldn’t be leaving the room for a while yet.
“Good morning.”
He lowered his phone at the sound of Molly’s sweet voice and took in the beautiful sight before him. Her blond hair surrounded her shoulders and framed her face. Her skin was pale and discolored from the bruises, but if he didn’t look past that he’d drive himself nuts.
Despite the bleary gleam in her eyes, she looked more like herself.
“Morning. I ordered you some food. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
She placed a hand on her flat belly. “Ohmigod. I’m starving.”
He got to his feet and offered her his chair. “Enjoy the view. I’ll make you a tea. Earl Grey?”
“Yes, please.”
He went to the kitchen, plopped a tea bag into a mug, and poured water from the still-hot kettle over it.
In the chair, she curled her feet beneath the T-shirt of his she wore. Hell, as much as he liked seeing her in more-flattering garments, there was something sexy about a woman in his shirt.
No, not a woman. This woman.
Molly.
He carried the steaming mug to her, and she smiled and accepted it. “Thank you.”
He took the chair next to her, crossing his ankle over his knee and reaching for his coffee. “How do you feel today?”
She wrapped her hands around the mug, balancing it on her knee. “Okay. I slept well.” Her eyebrows raised. “How’s Wraith? Ohmigosh, I can’t believe I didn’t ask about him sooner.”
“Don’t sweat it. He’s doing well the last I heard. Not happy to be in the hospital, I’m sure.”
She flattened her lips. “You said he was shot in the leg. Was it broken?”
“No, I don’t think so. But he lost a lot of blood. I plan to swing by the hospital later if you feel up to it.”
“Of course.” She lifted the mug to her lips, then set it down again. Her eyes darted nervously, and a blush momentarily tinted her cheeks. “I guess I should look at flights back home now that, well, things are settled.”
Fear sent his head on a turbulent ride. He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and folded his fingers against his jaw, aiming for an ease he didn’t feel. Previously, they’d talked about him having work to tie up after Rex was handled. He’d said he’d then have a few weeks or longer off.
They’d decided to talk about it after, and now . . . Christ, maybe she wanted space. How the hell was he going to?—
“And you?” she asked, her brow furrowing.
Indecision burrowed deep in his gut. If she wanted time to herself that was fine, but he couldn’t pussyfoot around. He needed a direct order from her.
Once he made his intentions clear, she could decide if—or when—things between them went further.
He took the mug from her fingers and set it on the table along with his, then leaned forward and grasped her hands. “Molly,” he said, tasting the soft cadence of her name. God, he could say her name a million times and never tire of it—never tire of her.
Her golden stare slammed into him with awareness. The embers in her eyes rekindled. He’d been afraid they might never return after what she’d endured.
Her lips parted as if eagerly waiting for his mouth.
Agitation tensed his shoulders, but he forced himself to stay focused on her pretty eyes. The eyes that’d completely dismantled him when he stumbled across her at Rex’s fucking house in the jungle.
“I know you’ve been through a lot,” he began, clearing his throat. “I understand if you need some time. I want you to know that I’m here . . . whether you want me to wait, or be in your life now. Either way, I’ll take it.”
She swallowed. Slowly, she peeled her fingers out of his grasp and stood, then climbed onto his lap. He leaned back on the chair, circling his arms around her waist and holding her against him.
