Page 24 of Blade's Edge
“Want to see you again.”
The whispered words send my dick pressing against the zipper of my Wranglers.
“Then maybe you’ll let me take you on a proper date this weekend. If you feel up to it. But right now, you’re goin’ to sleep.”
I should help her out of her clothes, but if I do that, I won’t catch a wink tonight.
“I’ll be out in the living room if you need anything.” Pulling back the blankets, I lift her legs onto the bed. God, her skin is so soft. Long, lean muscles—she must be a runner—relax under my touch.
“Jasper,” she murmurs. Her eyes are already closed, her hair fanned out on the blue satin pillow case. “S’no couch. Where…will you…?”
“The floor is just fine for me, sweetheart. I’m gonna wake you up around 2:00 a.m. Gotta make sure your concussion hasn’t gotten any worse.” Leaning down, I press a kiss to her forehead. I can still smell the smoke from the blast on her skin, but underneath, she’s all jasmine and vanilla.
Despite being so tired my eyes feel like sandpaper, I take a few minutes to put away her groceries as best as I can. Gonna have to look up what to do with kale one of these days.
None of her chairs look big enough for a guy like me to catch some shuteye, so I grab a couple of throw pillows, kick off my boots, and stretch out on the floor next to the coffee table. It’ll have to do. I set the alarm on my phone for 2:00 a.m., and say a quick prayer no one comes after Emi tonight.
Emi
Moving hurts. So does breathing. My head pounds an incessant beat any drummer would be proud of. Stretching, I feel the sheets whisper over my bare calves, but my underwire is digging into my side. Why am I in bed fully dressed?
It takes another few moments for my thoughts to start making even a lick of sense. My car caught fire. No. It exploded.
Fragments of memories hit me one after another. Riding in the ambulance. The way the hospital smelled—antiseptic and bleach and blood. Jasper showing up with my purse—and my groceries. The beginnings of a panic attack. Then him driving me home.
We were in the elevator together. Weren’t we? But after that…everything’s fuzzy.
The blinds are open, letting in the light from the full moon. It hurts my eyes. That can’t be good.
“What if that concussion turns into a brain bleed? I’m sleepin’ on your couch tonight.”
Jasper. Did he really stay? Carefully, I push up on one elbow. So far so good. I’m only a little dizzy. Sitting all the way up is dicier, but after a minute, the room stops spinning.
I get to my feet in stages. Legs over the side of the bed. Hand braced on the headboard. Standing—I’m almost straight.
The stench of burnt gasoline clings to me. I’m not steady enough to shower, but I can at least get out of these clothes. And this damn push-up bra.
Everything takes twice as long as it should. Unbuttoning my blouse. Dealing with the zipper on my skirt. The catch on the bra is near impossible with how my fingers are shaking, but I finally get it off. Hallelujah.
I feel a hell of a lot better once I’m in my softest pajama pants and a t-shirt. A quick search of my bedroom doesn’t turn up my purse—or my phone—so I make my way out into the living room.
Oh, my God. Jasper really did stay. He’s stretched out on the floor next to the window with his Stetson angled over his eyes. At least he grabbed one of the chair cushions for under his head.
Carefully, I sink down to my knees next to him. “Jas?” I gently nudge his shoulder. “Jasper? Wake up.”
He jerks to sitting, his hat tumbling to the carpet, and wraps his hands around my upper arms. “Emi? What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.” It’s such an absurd thing to say, I start to laugh until a sharp pain lances through my skull. I hiss out a breath, and Jasper arches his dark brows at me. “Okay. I’m as fine as someone can be after…what happened.”
“Then why are you up? Don’t even think about trying to kick me out. I’m staying put.” His confusion is honestly adorable.
I offer him a wobbly smile. “You can’t sleep on the floor all night.”
“If you had a couch, I wouldn’t be down here.”
“I live alone. What do I need a couch for? Besides, any couch big enough for you to sleep on wouldn’t fit in this apartment.” My thoughts are fracturing in real time, and if I don’t lie down again soon, I’m probably going to fall over. “Come on. My bed is big enough for both of us.”
“I’m fine out here,” he says, but the longing in his voice is hard to miss. “I won’t do anythin’ that makes you uncomfortable.”
