He didn’t even have a blanket. He was using his arm as a pillow. His elbows were bony. Ain’t no way that was comfortable. I didn’t literally jump in front of a bullet aimed at him so he could cripple himself by sleeping on a rug.
But there he was, curled into a protective ball in front of the bed like he was Beverly Hills’ version of a guard dog (a chihuahua, probably hairless).
It was utterly ridiculous.
How dare he look so vulnerable and protective at the same time? I flashed back to a few hours ago when I’d been bleeding around the bullet embedded in my arm but still fighting the guys that had come for Kieran and Haz. This little pip came charging out of the fish store with a pair of tweezers.
Yeah. You heard me right. Tweezers.
It didn’t matter that they were sized for a giant to pluck his eyebrows…They were tweezers.And he proceeded to stab them into the arm of a man twice his size.
If it wasn’t so unhinged, I would have been charmed by his attempt to help me. And now he was on the floor.
“You better hope someone knocked you down there because, if this was a choice, I’m not going to be able to overlook it.”
The sound of my voice jolted him awake, and he rolled to his back, staring up with shock contorting his sleepy features. “Hiro.”
I never once thought of my name like a weapon, but every time he said it, I felt attacked.
“You’re awake.” He went on, scrambling to his feet and nearly pitching to the side in his haste.
I caught him, gently pushing him upright again. “Why are you on the ground?”
“I wanted to be close in case you needed something.”
What I need is for you to stay out of my life.“It’s a king-sized bed,” I pointed out.
His eyes dropped. “The floor is fine.”
“Is it? Then you take the bed, and I’ll use the rug.”
“No!” he burst out, the whites of his eyes bulging in the dark. “You got shot! You need to rest comfortably.”
“Do I?” I countered as he shifted from foot to foot while bobbing his head.
I swept him off his feet and into my arms, bridal style.
His entire body went rigid as if he were trying to hold his own weight. “What are you doing? Put me down!”
I did no such thing. “You said you wanted me to be comfortable.”
“You have stitches and an IV. You can’t just carry mearound.”
“Says who?” I countered.
“Me!”
Fuck, I’ve missed him.
It seemed unlikely, after such a brief encounter, but here I was, aching like I’d lost something I never even had.
Frankly, it pissed me off.
What the hell was he even doing here anyway? Shouldn’t he be tanning himself on a beach somewhere?
“I told you to stay out of trouble,” I groused, carrying him around the bed to the untouched side, ripping the covers back, and lowering him onto the sheets. “If I ever catch you sleeping on the floor again, there will be hell to pay.”
“Well, I’m not sleeping with you!” he said, sitting up almost immediately.
