Page 42 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

Her eyes lift to mine and she gives a single shake of her head. "No. I get them all the time."

"You should be more careful," I say, leaning in, my lips grazing her palm. With her hand against my cheek and my mouth against her palm, my breath grows heavy and slow.

"Does it still hurt?" she whispers, swallowing hard.

I want to tell her…it never stopped hurting. Her leaving, it never stopped hurting. And her being back just makes it worse. But that's not something I've ever even admitted to myself, let alone her. Instead, I say, "What?"

"Your cut,” she whispers, her hand wiggling in mine.

I'd almost forgotten why we were like this. Reluctant to move, I stand there breathing her in. "It should have stopped bleeding now. Thank you."

I should step back. Pull her hand away from my face. But I can't. She'll have to be the one who does it.

Which she does. Finally.

"All good?" I ask, with a soft smile.

She looks at my cheek, then flicks her eyes back to me. "I think so."

"It must've been your magic touch," I say. "It doesn't usually stop that quickly." And especially not with my heart beating this hard and fast, I want to add. But I don't.

She drops her head. "Sorry if I caused that."

"You didn't."

We reach for the door handle at the same time, and then she pulls back with a nervous laugh.

"I got it," I say, and pull the door open. She brushes past me, and I almost faint at the smell of my body wash on her skin again. Something about the thought that she still uses it sends desire shooting through every inch of my body.

"Lexi. Wait."

She stops right in the doorway, and I grab her hand. "Be more careful. No more bandaids."

She chuckles. "It's hard not to get paper cuts when I'm working with paper all day."

"Just try, okay? For me." What the fuck am I saying?

She smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Fine. You too." Then she reaches out, as if to touch my cheek, but pulls her hand back before she makes contact. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You would never.” I catch her hand and pull it to my cheek anyway. "I just...wish I could've said the same thing about me."

That makes her breath catch. I let her hand fall away, and we step out of the bathroom into the hallway.

To where Rhys is standing. Fully dressed, hair still damp from his own shower, looking at the two of us coming out of the same bathroom in a cloud of steam.

"Morning," I say.

He doesn't say anything. His eyes just flick from her to me and back again. His face showing nothing of what he's thinking.

Alexia goes red, mutters something about being late, and disappears into her room so fast the door slams shut.

"Apparently household rhythm also applies to bathroom timetables," I joke.

Nothing.

I keep talking. "She was showering, I needed the sink, there was yelling, there was a hot water war, there was a towel handoff. Words were exchanged, blood was drawn. Just your everyday housemate chaos, right?"

I walk past him, patting his shoulder, then stop — might as well say the thing I've been thinking since we ran into her a few days ago. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you and her. But she's living here for three months, and you're acting like she's contagious. You didn't used to be like this around her."