Page 14 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
“Stop complaining and sit,” she says. “It’ll be easier to get them the rest of the way off if you’re not on your feet.”
I half collapse into the chair, doing my best not to bend the irritated appendage. My breath hisses in as she kneels at my feet, guiding the fabric over my knee. She’s being careful, but—fuck. It hurts.
“Oh, Parker,” she whispers, her brow furrowing as she lets my pants fall to the floor. “Oh…wow.”
I force myself to look down. My joint is already swollen to nearly twice its normal size and turning interesting shades ofpurple and red. It looks like someone stuffed a softball under my skin and beat it with a hammer.
“See, not so bad,” I say, but the joke instantly falls flat.
“We should go to the hospital.”
“At four in the morning? During a natural disaster? The ER will be packed. I’ll just ice it and see how it looks tomorrow.”
She blinks faster, her throat working as she continues to stare at my gimpy knee. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”
“Stop,” I order. “No more apologizing. I refuse to accept them.”
“But you’re hurt,” she says, her voice breaking. “Really hurt.”
I reach down to cup her cheek, waiting until she glances up to say in a more serious voice, “Maybe, but either way, it’s not your fault. Okay? It’s really not, and if you cry, then I’ll cry, and I’m really ugly when I cry.”
“I seriously doubt that,” she whispers, holding my gaze for a long, loaded beat that makes me think she might find me nearly as gorgeous as I find her. Even though I’m not nearly as hot in a damp dress shirt and boxer briefs as she is in her underwear.
But before I can ask if she wants to kiss me and see if that makes the owie feel better, she clears her throat and sits back on her heels, pulling her cheek from my palm. “But I hear you. I don’t want to make you feel worse by wallowing in my own guilt. But I’m staying up to make sure you don’t die in your sleep from a knee injury. It’s the least I can do.”
My lips twitch. “I don’t think that’s how knees work.”
“I don’t care. I’m not letting you die on my watch. Not after you drove through a building for me. But I do need to pee before I assume my post.” She stands, wobbling a little before finding her balance.
The poor thing is half dead on her feet.
No surprise after the adrenaline rush she had earlier tonight.
“I won’t die,” I say, dropping the teasing tone. “I just need sleep, and so do you. So, go. Sleep. And we’ll make plans to get my knee checked out in the morning. I’m fine to shower and get to bed by myself tonight.”
“You promise?” she asks.
“I promise,” I assure her. “The best guest room is down the hall, second door on the right. It has its own private bath, and my mom left a few things in the bureau the last time she came for a visit. I think it’s just pajamas and workout clothes, but she’s about your size. Just taller. Feel free to wear anything you find.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She starts to turn away, then stops, wrapping her arms around herself as she faces me again. “I just want you to know that I won’t cramp your style or abuse your generosity, okay? I’ll rest up, then figure out where to go next tomorrow. I can probably stay with Elly for a while once she’s back from her honeymoon, or with Charlotte if she?—”
“You’ll stay with me,” I cut in. “As long as you like. As long as you need.”
The words hang between us. She blinks, and I can see her working through all the reasons that’s probably not a good idea.
I cut in before she can speak, “I’m serious. You need a place to stay. I have two empty guest rooms. Seems pretty simple to me. It doesn’t have to be weird.”
“Yes, it does,” she says, biting her bottom lip before confessing in a sexy whisper that goes straight to my dick, “Wanting to bone a guy you used to babysit is weird.”
“I knew you wanted to bone me,” I whisper back, taking the win where I can. At least now I have a pretty good idea why she’s been avoiding me. “And there’s nothing weird about it. We’re both adults. I turned twenty-seven in May. My frontal lobe is fully developed and everything.”
Her mouth hooks up on one side. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. I’m excited about it.”
“I’m not sure my frontal lobe ever fully developed.”
“I mean thatwouldexplain why you thought it was okay to live on a shelf like some kind of kitchen goblin,” I tease. “When Elly first told me, I thought she was kidding. But I should have known she wasn’t. You’ve always been a maniac.”
