She froze, cocking her head.

Another moan. Her charge had been napping for most of the evening, including most of Martin’s return visit, but it sounded like he was awake now. The medic’s stern warning rang in her ears again. “Biggest thing is, keep him still. Jake’s young and fit, so healing shouldn’t be a problem, but infection can flip everything on its ass faster than you would believe. He’s got to stay down and quiet for as long as possible.”

Well, Jake certainly wasn’t being quiet, and from the squeak of her bedsprings, he wasn’t being still either.

Goddamn it.

Taking just enough time to wind the towel under her arms and tuck it in between her breasts, Charlie ran out of the bathroom, steam billowing in her wake.

She cursed. Jake was twisting back and forth in his sleep, evidently having some sort of nightmare. His big body was sheened in sweat. The covers had worked down, just clinging to his hips, the dark line of hair on his abdomen stark against her pale yellow sheets. The bandage on his right side was still intact, but with the way he was moving, it could work loose at any second.

Her stomach knotting, Charlie scurried to the side of the bed and put a firm hand on his forehead.

“Wake up!”

His jaw was working, his eyes rolling behind lids clenched shut.

“Come on, Jake,” she ordered, willing her voice not to shake, “stop making a habit out of scaring me to death.”

He went still at the sound of her voice.

Without warning a big, muscular arm snaked around the back of her knees. With a surprised squeak, Charlie tumbled into the bed. Her hands splayed across his formidable chest as she fought to stay on his good side, well away from his injury.

“You idiot! You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Are you naked?” he mumbled. His eyes were still closed, but she flushed as curious fingers trailed down the back of her damp thigh.

“No,” she said sternly. Though stern might be an exaggeration, since stern voices didn’t usually waver quite so much. “I have on a towel.”

“Mmmm.” His voice slid over her skin and raised goose bumps. “Smell nice.” His big hand moved an inch higher, making Charlie tense before it stilled. “Feel nice. Stay.” He hesitated, then cracked his eyelids once, giving her a glimpse of storm-tossed blue. “Please.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll stay.”

His lips curved, but his eyes closed again immediately. In the next second a soft snore greeted her ears. She shook her head, but at least he was being still. After a few awkward moments, her neck started getting a crick. With a sigh, Charlie laid her head on the smooth, carved expanse of his shoulder. Her nostrils flared at his scent and her eyes remained wide open, her breathing shallow and unsteady. He was so warm, so big and so . . . male.

Okay.

As soon as he was asleep, she’d get up and move to the couch. No problem. She hadn’t promised to stay all night, after all.

Fifteen minutes later, that idea was nixed because the instant she shifted to get up, Jake’s arm tightened, pinning her in place. Fuck.

Okay. Just relax.

That was easier said than done. His chest rose and fell under her hand, lifting her body with each deep, slow breath. The smattering of wiry black hair on said chest tickled her fingertips. His skin was warm under her cheek, the thump of his heart strong and steady in her ears.

She’d never fallen asleep with a man in her bed.

Last night didn’t count, because technically she hadn’t been on the bed. And that hadn’t really been sleeping. More like resting her eyes for a few minutes.

Maybe she’d rest her eyes again. Just for a few more minutes.

---

“Waking up next to you is becoming a thing.”

She snuggled closer. Jake chuckled, not minding in the least.

At the sound, Charlie stiffened and pushed away from him before rubbing her eyes with one hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t get used to it,” she mumbled.

He frowned, wondering what the hell she meant by that, when Charlie let out a gasp of pain. Two nights of sleeping in awkward positions and her body had apparently had enough. Tears sprang to her eyes as obvious agony dug in and spread. Quickly, Jake worked his good hand behind her, slipping under the towel and finding the knotted muscle with his fingers.

“Easy, darl. I’ve got you.”

Charlie whimpered, her lips parting at the mixture of pleasure and pain as Jake slowly coaxed her body to relax. At last the traitorous muscle gave way and she went limp, her eyes closing, soft pink lips parted in both pleasure and relief. Jake held his breath, watching her. There was something about this woman that pulled at him. He didn’t understand it yet, but it was definitely there. Then his gaze dipped lower and he gritted his teeth as heat licked up his spine. Now this response he understood all too well.

The towel covering Charlie had worked loose during the night. His impromptu massage had made it looser. A generous C cup, her tits were firm, lush and currently half exposed. He considered looking away, but he was only a man, for god’s sake. And her nipples were practically peeking out. In fact, from this angle he could see one rosy tip lifting the fabric. Jake sucked in a shaky breath.

Charlie’s eyes popped open. Instantly, a blush stained her cheeks. He watched the color spread lower, fascinated as it fanned out between those beautiful breasts. Charlie yanked the towel back up with a curse. As she was getting her body in order, she started to notice his.

He was getting hard. Jake shifted his weight ever so slightly, but then decided fuck it. What the hell did she expect? She tore her eyes away from what was going on under her sheets back to his face. Her cheeks had gone from rosy to flaming, but she managed to lift an imperious eyebrow.

He shrugged, not feeling the least apologetic.

“You almost died less than forty-eight hours ago,” she accused in disbelief.

“Keyword there is almost, darl.”

“Obviously.” She pushed up, careful not to put too much pressure on him even in her flustered state. Charlie scrambled off the bed, shaking her head. “I’m going to go get some clothes on.”

“If you insist.”

She was almost at the door when Jake sat up with a groan, reaching for the edge of the bed.

“And what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Despite himself, Jake stopped like a kid with his hand halfway in the cookie jar. “I need to use the toilet.”

“Use the plastic urinal Martin left. I’ll take care of it for you.”

“No.” He glared at the nightstand.

She sighed. “Fine. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I can manage the equipment myself, thanks.” At least as soon as his dick got the message that it wouldn’t be seeing action anytime soon.

She rolled her eyes. “I meant help you get there. You’re not up to walking by yourself yet. Martin said so.”

Martin, schmartin. He was beginning to hate the sound of the guy’s name. Even if the son of a bitch did give great drug. “It’s only three meters or so—"

“I mean it, Jake. Don’t you move till I get back.”

Had he thought her big blue eyes placid? Because right now they were fierce and bright, her earlier sweet blush long gone. He raised a hand in surrender. “Not one twitch, I swear.”

She ran out of the room, clutching the towel to her chest.

Fucking awesome chest. He rubbed his eyes, but the sight of those beautiful tits was burned into his retinas.

When he’d woken up with her all soft and warm and half naked, tucked into his good side, it had been damn hard to resist the temptation to peel that towel off and get her all naked. But he was under the weather, as it were, and despite his reputation, Jake prided himself on being a gentleman.

At least with women like Charlie.

Not that he spent a lot of time with women outside of a bedroom. Hell, he’d already talked to Charlie more than the last three women he’d fucked combined.

She obviously had a gentle nature but had somehow fended off two hard-bitten assholes like Timor and Archie. She was quiet but could turn fierce and commanding in the blink of an eye. And if those paintings he’d seen in her spare room were for real, that unassuming exterior hid a breathtaking talent. He was beginning to think his little savior was an enigma and that sucked. Jake was a born puzzle solver. There wasn’t a lock invented that he could resist. He’d keep working at it, one way or another, until he figured out how to get inside.

Jake frowned, his hand tightening on the bedcovers. He had no business thinking about getting inside Charlie. In any way, shape or form.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so curious about a woman, but that was his tough luck. He owed Charlie his life. The best thing he could do for her was to run as far as he could in the opposite direction.

Not that he could actually run at the moment. Apparently, he couldn’t even take a fucking leak by himself.

With a curse, Jake ran a hand over his jaw, wincing at the roughness there. He supposed a shave was out, too. Fuck.

By the time Charlie got back to the room, he was feeling pissy in more ways than one.

“Took you long enough,” he growled. She lifted her eyebrows but didn’t comment. She had dressed in a long, shapeless gray T and soft yoga pants in the same shade. She finished twisting that mass of too-pale hair on top of her head before coming over to the bed. With Charlie’s help, Jake was able to swing his legs over the side of the bed without too much trouble. That was promising, until he found himself out of breath and sweating from head to toe by the time they made the dozen or so steps to her bathroom.

“I got this,” he snapped again at the doorway.

She ignored his temper. “Great. I’ll just stay right outside until you’re through.”

She turned her back to the wide-open door. Jake shook his head, placing one hand against the wall to hold himself up as he dropped his boxers. Despite what he’d told Charlie, he was feeling quite wobbly and was rather glad she’d insisted on staying close. If he’d been in a real hospital, he wouldn’t have tried this at all. But he’d be damned if he’d take a piss in a glorified milk jug in front of the woman who had saved his life and leave her to clean up after him.

After he’d washed his hands and returned to the bed with Charlie’s help—a feat that left him feeling like he’d run a 5K through knee-deep mud—he watched her fuss around the bedroom again. She pulled another quilt from a shelf over the closet, going on her tiptoes to do it. His eyes narrowed. Besides great tits, his benefactress had a rather shapely arse.

“How old are you?” he asked, forcing himself to look away.

“Twenty-seven.”

“You look younger.” Jake yawned. God, he was worse than a puppy. A short walk and a piss and he was ready for a nap.

“Is that so?” She looked amused as she tucked the extra cover around him. His eyes were growing heavy again. Dammit. “How old are you?”

“We’re almost thirty,” he mumbled. “Nearly out of time.”

Her hands stilled. “What does that mean, Jake? Jake?”

But the dark had already descended, sucking him down with it.