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The feeling of rightness shot to his chest and then whispered lower, where his body hardened from all his wanting. Closing his eyes, staring at the blackness in his mind, he willed the primal urges to lessen. The last thing he wanted to do was to come off like a pervert. She didn’t deserve that.
He felt her stir, heard her breathing increase. Was she … He opened his eyes.
She stared at him, her lids still heavy, sleepy and sexy. He expected her to jackknife up, to put more space between them.
She didn’t.
“You’re awake.” She smiled. Damn, but she was beautiful when she smiled.
“You slept with me.” He reached to touch her.
That’s when she did it. She pulled back. But at least she didn’t leave his bed. She pushed up on her elbow.
A slight frown pulled at her forehead. “You begged me not to go.”
He grinned. “So that’s all it takes to get you in my bed? Begging? I would have done that months ago.”
She shot up, but he noted her expression didn’t get as distant as it usually did when she pulled away. “You need to drink blood.”
As she walked out, he watched her. “A morning kiss would be nice,” he called out and petted Baxter, who shifted closer.
She turned around and frowned. “I don’t want to shit in your Cheerios, bucko. But you almost died last night.”
He chuckled, then searched his mind for what else he could remember. He recalled insisting that Kirk bring him here … to her. And like he knew she would, she’d taken care of him. More proof that she cared. That the wall she’d built up between them was slowly crumbling.
“You saved me,” he said.
“No, I don’t like you that much,” she said. “Steve and Dr. Whitman did that.” She walked out.
He tossed the sheet off to get up. He saw that he was wearing only his underwear. Had she…? A smile pulled at his lips thinking about Della undressing him and their earlier conversation about underwear.
He stood up. His knees gave, but he caught himself.
She walked back in, ignoring his lack of clothes, and handed him a bottle of blood. When her fingers brushed against his, a sweet bolt of attraction hit, tingled down his arm, and went straight to his heart.
Something about her being here, waking up with him, and even him being just in his underwear made the moment feel right. It would have felt righter if she were partially unclothed—or completely naked—but he’d take what he could get.
He reached for her. She stepped back.
“Get back in bed and drink your blood.” She took the bottle, unscrewed it, and then put it back in his hands. “The doctor said he would be here this morning to check on you.”
“I’m fine.” He turned to the dresser to grab his jeans.
She shot between him and the piece of furniture. “Bed!”
The move had her so close again, he could smell her hair, or her shampoo, he didn’t care which it was. All he knew was that he really liked it.
“If you come with me.” He wiggled his brows at her.
She growled. Her eyes brightened, her mouth pursed into a beautiful bow, and her shoulder arched back, emphasizing her small breasts. They may be small, but they were beautiful. The image of her naked flashed in his mind again.
He grinned. “You would never get angry around me if you knew how sexy you look when you’re mad.”
Her frown tightened. “Would you quit making light of this? You almost died, Chase. First from blood loss and then an infection. And for the record, if I never have to see the insides of your gut again, I’ll be okay with it.”
“I’m not trying…” Chase paused and looked at her. “Does Burnett know?”
“I had to tell him,” Della said. “Douglas Stone sent someone to spy on you. And he snuck through the alarm.”
