“Gotcha!” she called back.
He finished with his sling, piled his pillows on one side and stretched himself out on the bed, propped up.
He didn’t want to admit what a relief it was to take a load off.
But it helped significantly with the pain.
Evie came in with the pillows, left, and then the lights went out beyond his door and she came back with the carton of Tillamook Birthday Cake ice cream.
“I approve of your ice cream selection,” she announced, sliding into bed beside him. “Birthday Cake is the best, with Malted Moo second runner-up.”
“Monster Cookie,” he parried, taking the spoon she offered.
“Oo, nice one,” she muttered, digging in.
She’d put her hair up in a knot at the top, but tendrils were falling down her cheeks.
Yeah.
Just all kinds of pretty.
“Babe,” he called.
She looked at him and answered, “Yeah?” before she shoved a huge-ass spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.
And only Evan could make shoving a huge-ass spoonful of ice cream in her mouth something that gave him an almost overwhelming urge to bang her breathless.
He wanted to lock onto that thought.
But he saw the purple, the swelling, the scabs.
Okay.
Focus.
He had Evie and her bare legs in her pajamas lying in his bed with him, holding a carton of ice cream between them.
And repeat.
He-had-Evie-and-her-bare-legs-in-her-pajamas-lying-in-his-bed-with-him-holding-a-carton-of-ice-cream.
He pulled in a deep breath.
And then he whispered, “It gets worse than that.”
“All right.”
All right?
“Honey, you gotta—”
She shook he head. “Stop it, Danny, we’ll handle it when it happens. We’ve handled enough for today, doncha think?”
Yeah.
He thought.
More than enough.
“And we’re here,” she continued. “We might be a little worse for the wear but we’re here. Let’s just eat ice cream, watch TV, I’ll get you some water to take your pill and then tomorrow is another day.” She smiled. “And another day off because I can’t strip with a shiner.”
His eyes moved over her face thinking that he already knew he could fall in love with this woman.
What he was figuring out was he was about to head into free fall.
And he was not going to reach out a hand to grab hold of anything.
It was coming clear he was good to just…
Drop.Mag opened his eyes and saw dark.
But he felt nagging pain in his shoulder.
He also felt Evie’s head resting on the other one and her arm along his gut.
He was still up on the pillows, and it hit him that he’d fallen asleep in the middle of ice cream. Then she’d obviously turned out the lights, switched off the TV, and snuggled up to him on top of the covers, probably so she wouldn’t disturb him.
And she hadn’t.
He hadn’t woken up.
He also hadn’t taken a painkiller, which right then he knew was a mistake.
Last, he was a stomach or side sleeper and he needed to move, but couldn’t, because Dr. Baldwin told him to sleep a few days in the sling, on his back, elevated.
But he was uncomfortable.
The only good thing about his position was Evie cozied up to him, though she’d trapped his arm against his side with her warm softness.
To try to fool his body into a semblance of comfort, he stretched his legs and carefully pushed his arm under her so he could wrap it around her.
He didn’t go careful enough.
Her head moved on his shoulder, her body shifted against his, pressing closer, and her hold across his stomach tightened.
Fuck.
Just that from his Evie and he was getting hard.
She tipped her head back and he felt her push her face to his neck.
“You awake, honey?” she mumbled.
“Go back to sleep, baby,” he replied.
She moved again, which meant he had more of her weight, including her tits pressed to his side.
Jesus.
“You sound really awake,” she said.
“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”
She lifted her head. “Are you in pain?”
He moved his hand to run the tips of his fingers soothingly along her back.
The problem with that was, her cami had ridden up and his fingers hit soft, smooth skin.
Christ.
“I’m good, promise,” he lied.
She misinterpreted the tightness in his voice and shifted again, murmuring, “I’m gonna go get you a pill.”
But Mag curled his arm around her and clamped tight. “Don’t want you to move.”
“Is my moving hurting you?”
Everything about her was agony right then, but not that way.
He should have known he wouldn’t be able to make it through a night with Evie in his bed.
He’d agreed to it because she didn’t want to be alone.
And because he wanted her in his bed.
“No,” he grunted.
He must have communicated something in that grunt because her voice went soft and sweet in a way he felt right in his dick when she whispered, “I think we’re gonna get up to some shenanigans.”
That tone in her words?
Her body pressed to his?
Oh yeah, they were.
She pushed up as he turned, and when her mouth slammed into his, she only smushed his lips a little against his teeth.