“Fine.”
Of course that’s a lie. Men and their pride.
He leans back on the toilet, resting his head against the wall. He opens his hands, spreading out his fingers, and gives me access. He looks at me intently as I grab his hand.
The moment my skin makes contact with his, I feel fuzzy and weak, like a meek girl. The way he feels is amazing, so warm, and his hands are almost twice the size of mine. My hand could fit into his perfectly.
If I could ever hold it.
I swallow from the nerves and try not to tremble as I check his hands for bruises and cuts. His hand is tough as leather, and his fingers are so calloused, they make me remember he is a fighter in heart and soul.
I wonder why.
“Thanks,” he says when I let go of his hand.
His face isn’t doleful like before; on the contrary, he actually seems grateful.
I smile, my cheeks rushing with heat when he smiles too.
“Where are your glasses?” he says.
“I lost them during the fight …”
He chuckles a little, but holds back because of the pain in his chest. “Too bad. You looked cuter with them.”
My eyes widen and I gasp for air. My face lights up red hot with embarrassment.
Did he actually just say that?
My heart is pounding. I can’t believe this. It feels so unreal. He just said I’m cute.
Hunter Bane thinks I’m cute? Is this real?
For some reason I burst out into giggles. And now I’m even more ashamed.
“What?” he says. He leans forward and stares straight into my eyes. I stop laughing. My muscles tense up and I freeze. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my lips.
Sweet, hot, delirious breath.
I want to inhale it. Take him with me and never stop breathing him in.
I want to kiss him.
“What’s so funny?” he says. “You think I’m making a joke?” His voice is thick, like a guttural sound, and turns my bones liquid.
I clear my throat. “No. You’re just the first to say that.”
He leans back, and I can feel my body relaxing again.
“Well it’s the truth,” he says.
“Others don’t seem to think so.”
“You shouldn’t care so much about what others think,” he says. “What you think is what matters.”
He reaches into his pocket and takes out my glasses.
“Oh my God, you found them! Thank you so much,” I say with a gleeful smile on my face.
“Don’t mention it. Least I could do for you now that you’ve nursed me back to health.”
I roll my eyes and chortle, while he hands me my glasses. Leaning forward still makes him groan, though.
“Damn … I feel like shit,” he says, laughing.
“You look the part.”
“I just want to crash on my bed and sleep through the day tomorrow.”
He gets up from the toilet and barely stays straight. I quickly put his arm around my shoulder and support him while he walks. We go to his room, and boy, it’s not what I expected.
There’s nothing out of the ordinary. Just a table, a chair, two beds, a pile of homework and books. It’s even clean.
But what surprises me the most is the ginormous bookshelf right beside the door.
I don’t have time to marvel at his books, because he limps forward and I have to go with him. I help him get to his bed, and he lets himself fall down on top of it.
Looking at him for a few seconds feels like an eternity. It’s so dead quiet in here. Neither of us knows what to say.
“Thanks,” I say after a while. “For coming to my rescue.”
“I would do it again.”
I blush and smile, and the smile he gives me back makes the butterflies in my stomach fly even more.
“Well … goodnight,” I say, and I turn around and walk to the door at an awkward pace.
“G’night.”
Before I walk out I peek one last time at the wicked fighter lying in his bed.
He looks darn cute and sexy when he tries to sleep.
And then I close the door.
“What are you doing?”
I jolt up and shriek, startled. I immediately turn around. Evie is standing right in front of me, her hands clenched to her waist, and she looks pissed.
“Going to bed,” I say with a quavering voice.
“That’s Hunter’s room,” she says, pointing.
“Obviously.”
“You just came out of his room.” Her eyes scan my face, and when she lowers them to look at my clothes, her pupils dilate. “Oh my God!”
I shush her by putting my finger on her lips. “Don’t shout so much.”
“But you’re covered in blood! Shit. Are you all right?” She grabs my shirt and lifts it, inspecting my tummy where the stain was. “There’s no wound.”
“That’s because it isn’t mine.” I jerk my shirt loose and lower it again.