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I open my eyes again, letting them drift right back to Sunshine. She calms me, eases something inside of me I can’t explain.
But is it her or that she just happens to be the one near me?
Using her to ease the ache I feel about the loss of Rivet would be easy. Maybe Sunshine would be okay with a no-strings sort of thing with me. I know myself well enough to know I haven’t been celibate the last five years even when pining for Rivet. If I thought there might be a chance, I might’ve been, but she has been adamant that she shut it down the second we woke up that next morning.
It would be messy to get involved with Sunshine. Hell, she’d probably shoot me down from the onset, and then it would be weird for the duration of her working for Cerberus.
As if she can feel my eyes on her, she looks in my direction.
I don’t know if it’s my own struggle or what, but when a soft smile plays on her lips before she turns her attention back to the television, I’m incapable of determining whether it was one of her fake ones or a real one.
No matter how this situation turns out, I know I’m fucked where Sunshine is concerned. She’s too pretty to be ignored, too kind to mistreat, and too damn sad that I could even consider not trying to make her happy.
Chapter 19
Sunshine
Every inch of my body aches. Sleeping in this chair was the worst idea ever.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, cringing when I feel slobber on it.
Jesus, it didn’t take long to fall from grace did it?
I chance a glance at Brent, freezing when I see his eyes locked on me. The heat in my face is immediate.
He chuckles when I wipe my face a second time.
“You snore.”
I scowl at him. “Only because I was uncomfortable.”
“You missed a spot.” He points at the right side of his chin.
My embarrassment triples when I swipe at the area on my face he indicates, wanting to growl at him when I realize he’s just messing with me.
“You’re hateful,” I mutter, unable to hold the look of irritation on my face because real pain shoots up my back when I attempt to stand.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss, my hand going to my lower back.
“Don’t say stuff like that.”
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry. My language was inappropriate.”
He frowns at me. “It doesn’t upset me. It—never mind.”
He tosses back his sheet and blanket and sits on the side of the bed. He winces as if he’s in pain this morning too, but he doesn’t hiss out profanities like a drunken sailor.
I watch his feet as he pushes them into his house shoes, making sure he’s going to be okay to stand. The man is getting better, but he’s not a hundred percent just yet. Taking a spill on this hard floor wouldn’t be good for either of us.
He seems steady on his feet, but before I can pull my eyes from him, he stretches his arms over his head. I swear gray sweats were meant for nothing more than driving women insane.
I can’t help but stare at the outline of his morning erection when he presses his hands to his waist and arches his back. It’s just there. I know I should look away. I haven’t even been caught yet, and I’m already embarrassed for looking.
“Sorry,” he grumbles, but when I manage to meet his eyes, there’s a smile in them.
“I umm… do you need any help in the bathroom? I mean, any help getting to the bathroom.” I press my hand to my forehead. “Fuck.”
“Sunshine, I’m disappointed in you.”
The smile is gone when I look back up at his face.
“You’re a medical professional. You should know I can’t control my morning erection. They just happen.”
“Shit. No, I know. I’m—” For some fucked-up reason, my eyes drop a second time. I swear to God the thing jerked behind the fabric.
“I’m fucking with you. I’ll be honest, it may have started as morning wood, but if you keep looking at it…”
“Yeah,” I say, my tongue lashing out because my mouth has gone dry. “I should probably—”
“Stop licking your lips while looking at my cock.”
I snap my eyes up to his, ready to bolt from the room and never face him again.
“I’m tired. I’m just so tired,” I explain. “I haven’t been sleeping well, and my responses are delayed, and your… you know, it’s just like right there, and shit, I’m rambling.”
“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” His eyes sparkle with mirth, the thumb on his left hand toying with the waistband of his sweats. “Actually, you’re cute all the time.”
“I have dried slobber on my face,” I remind him.
“Even still. But I need to use the bathroom, and you’re blocking the path.”
