Page 82 of Billionaire’s Heartbreak

A small smile crept across my face. “I take it you’re feeling better now that you’re able to joke.”

He coughed again. “No. I really didn’t notice the blood.”

I stared at him, then laughed softly. Unless he’d somehow grown eyes on the back of his head, there was no way he could have known how much blood he’d lost.

“I’m glad you’re better.”

Before I could think better of it, I leaned forward and hugged him. The moment my arms went around him, I regretted it.

His arms came around me, careful at first, then tighter. Our bodies fitted together with an ease that felt horribly familiar, like two missing pieces that had always known where they belonged.

It was cliché. It was dangerous. And I didn’t want to think about what it meant.

“Thank you for saving my life,” he whispered against my ear.

His voice was low. Too close, too intimate. His body heat seeped through me, and the vibration of his voice travelled straight through my skull. My eyes burned.

I couldn’t afford to feel this.

Not now.

Not for him.

Not again.

I pulled away and moved to the armchair opposite him, putting as much distance between us as the room allowed. “It was…” I searched for the right words. “The right thing to do.”

His expression dropped slightly. “Next time,” he murmured, “perhaps do it with some painkillers.”

“We didn’t have any.” My answer came sharper than I intended. “You’re lucky we had enough supplies to keep you alive.”

He looked at me, and I folded my arms. “Besides, I didn’t realise your pain tolerance was so low.”

The clever comeback I’d been so proud of inside my head suddenly sounded cruel once it was out in the room. I’d been the one putting the needle through his skin. Forty-seven times.

He took another sip of water, quietly and defeated. I hated that expression on him.

“Any news from Dave? Or Squirrel”

“No.” I paused. “I haven’t been able to contact anyone since we got here.”

His expression changed. “Why?”

The single word was short and sharp.

“We lost contact with the outside world.”

He straightened too quickly, then immediately winced and sank back against the sofa, closing his eyes.

I leaned forward. “Are you okay?”

He held up a hand. “I’m fine.”

He wasn’t, but I let it go. Whatever pain he was feeling, he could manage it for now. And perhaps he simply didn’t want me worrying about him.

“We’re in lockdown,” I explained.

“Like COVID?”