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I nodded. “Like a banshee. I’m sorry.”
I sighed, feeling a mix of relief and regret,wondering how much of Kat’s anger was genuine and how much was for show. I had no defense for my actions, other than to shut her up.
“When I came in, you were thrashing on the bed. I sat you up and shook you a little to try to wake you. When you did open your eyes, it was like you were looking straight through me. It actually creeped me the fuck out. Instead of letting you rip loose again, and wake the house up… I kissed you.”
“Oh. Well thank you, I suppose.”
That was my chance to change the subject. “Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”
She shook her head no, but her eyes said otherwise. Not wanting to press the issue, I stood up. “You’re okay then? Your leg alright?”
She clutched the sheet to her chest and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Okay then I’ll be on my way.” I turned to head out of the room when she called my name, stopping me in my tracks with my hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”
“Thank you for waking me up.”
“Don’t mention it. If you’re up to it tomorrow, Declan has a job for us,” I said in a way of parting and got the hell out of there. Because I couldn’t get out of the room fast enough, knowing that if I had stayed a second longer, the boner in my jeans would have become obvious.
Chapter 14
Kat
I pressed my fingers to my lips and watched as he left the room and quietly closed the door behind him. My heart was racing for more reasons than one, and mostly had to do with the kiss and not the nightmare.
I lied when I said that I didn’t remember it. I always remembered it simply because it was the same one that I always had. Mind you, it had been a long time since I’d dreamt about the night that Xavier attacked me, a year or more, but the pain in my leg must have triggered it.
With a sigh, I adjust the pillow under my leg, then punch the one for my head before laying down. I then think of more pleasant things, like kittens and puppies. It usually works in calming me down, enough for me to fall back to sleep, but not this time. This time, all I can think about is Rory and how his body pressed against mine, hishand on my breast, still has me tingling between my thighs. I turn over with a groan of frustration and grab my phone. It’s 2 am, and I debate on calling Derek but think better of it. I really have nothing to tell him other than about my leg, and he will of course try to convince me it’s a good idea to get romantically involved with Rory. Not gonna happen.
With a sigh, I whip the covers back and reach for my crutches. I stand and tuck them under my arms and make my way to the bathroom. After, while washing my hands, my stomach starts growling, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning before the beach.
As I hobble down the stairs, a sudden noise from the kitchen freezes me in my tracks. It sounded like glasses clinking together. My heart thunders in my chest as I grip the crutches tighter, adrenaline flooding my veins. Quietly, I inch my way into the room and peek around the cabinet.
My breath catches in my throat when I see a shadowy figure standing by the sink, their hand reaching towards the knife block on the counter. Without thinking, I throw one of my crutches at them, and they yowl in pain as it hits their forearm.
“Sonofafuckingbitch Kat! Are you trying to kill me?”
“Rory?!” I smack the light switch and lightfloods under the cupboards. “What the hell are you doing?!”
“I was making a sandwich for us, I thought you might be hungry,” he said, rubbing his arm.
I look at him, suspicion clearly on my face. “In the dark?”
“It’s a full moon,” he pointed to the skylight above him.
I couldn’t help but notice how the soft light illuminated his features, casting shadows that made him appear both mysterious and sexy as hell. Despite thinking someone was about to kill the whole household, I found myself melting a little at his thoughtfulness.
I leaned against the island, his attempt at making a late-night sandwich for me was undeniably thoughtful and sweet. But what was his motive?
“I’m sorry for throwing my crutch at you,” I mumbled, sitting on a stool.
“It’s fine. I would have done the same thing. You like turkey breast?” he asked, cutting the sandwiches in half.
“I do.”
“Good,” he said, handing me the crutch I threw at him. “Why don’t you make your way to the living room? I have the fire going in there, because I can’tsleep either. I’ll follow you shortly.”
Without a word, I make my way through the kitchen to the dining room and out to the living room. I was relieved. It would be more comfortable than the stool and less intimidating than my bedroom. Grunting at the pulling sensation in my thigh, I plopped down and sat there. I prayed the pain would ease up as I watched the flames dance in the fireplace.
