Page 55 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
My heart constricts.
He doesn’t even like me.
He’s just doing his job. Which currently appears to be making sure I make it home in one piece.
Everything is slowly coming back to me. When he said he was taking me back to New York and was planning on staying there for a while, I think I momentarily passed out.
That actually may have been the trigger for the rest of the mess in my head.
I rub my eyes. I still don’t really understand how any of this happened.
What on earth is Ras going to do in New York?
Is he going on his own? Does he know anyone there besides us? And frankly, doesn’t he have better things to do here or back in Italy?
I try to run my fingers through my hair only for them to get stuck on a knot.
Knots. Hair knots.
A fuzzy memory of touching something soft, something that might be Ras’s hair, finally gets me on my feet.
I need a shower.
Desperately. And not only because of the multiple layers of sweat that have dried on my body.
I need it so that I can attempt to wash away the thick, humiliating knowledge that I was my most vulnerable, deranged self around my enemy.
My gaze coasts over to the man on the other side of the room.
There are bags under his eyes and he looks like a tired mess, and yet he’s still undeniably, irrefutably gorgeous.
If that’s your enemy, maybe you should take a second look at your friends.
I smooth my palms over my abdomen, feeling incredibly flummoxed at the thought.
The bathroom is a mere step away when his voice halts me. “Hey.”
I fold my lips over my teeth. Here we go. But I’m not a coward, so I turn to face him. “Hi.”
Ras yawns and sits up on Cleo’s bed. “How are you feeling?”
Confused.
My gaze follows the smooth lines of his biceps as he reaches behind his head to tie his hair.
“Like I was run over by a truck and brought back from the dead.”
His eyes sweep over my body before he tips his head in the direction of the side table. “Check your temperature.”
I walk over, pick up the ear thermometer, and wait for it to make two beeps before I check the screen. “Ninety-eight.”
Ras frowns. “I have no idea what that means. Read the Celsius.”
“Thirty-six point eight.”
He nods, his profile illuminated by the sun rising on the other side of the window. “Good.” He scrubs his palm against his jaw and yawns again, looking unruffled.
Like it’s perfectly normal for him to wake up in the same room as me.
