Page 19 of Saving Grace

He winced in sympathy. “You’ve had a fever for a few days.”

My eyes widened, I scrambled into a sitting position, ignoring the pain in my leg and the anvil weight in my head. “I—what? How many days?”

“Two. Your leg got infected and you spiked a fever when I got you into town. We had to get a doctor in and he changed your antibiotics.”

“You should have left me at the hospital.”

“People are after you. You’d be too exposed. We talked about that.”

“You think I’d remember what we talked about when I’d been suffering from blood loss and hopped up on drugs?”

“There you are,” he grinned, pleased.

“What the hell are you talking about? Shit!” I gripped my head as my outburst triggered an agonizing spasm.

“Calm down, babe.” He gathered me to his chest. His very nice chest. His very nice, muscled, bare chest.

I reluctantly pushed away. I didn’t remember what went on between us before, didn’t he get it? Surely, he didn’t expect us to simply pick up where we’d left off. Memory loss or not, I wasn’t that naïve or stupid.

He sighed. “I don’t like seeing you scared of me. I just saw a spark of your old feistiness, so I know you’re in there somewhere.”

Matt was staring at me intently and I couldn’t look away. There was regret in his eyes and something else.

“So, I’m deducing here, and correct me if I’m wrong,” I started and tried to bring my knees up to hug them as a form of barrier against him, but my injured leg refused to cooperate. I crossed my arms and clasped my upper arms instead. “You’re sleeping in bed with me without your shirt, and I’m assuming this is your shirt I’m wearing. I have no bra, and I’m in my own panties, I hope.”

“They are. Your luggage was delivered yesterday.”

“And before that?”

Matt grinned. “You didn’t have any panties.”

A flush crept up my cheek. “And you slept beside me.”

“Yup.”

“We’ve been intimate before?”

“Yes.”

“Are you my boyfriend?”

His brows drew together in a frown. “Hell, no!”

“Okay. You don’t have to sound so disgusted.”

“I’m not. Listen, Grace—”

“So, we’re friends who sleep together once in a while.”

“That’s one way to put it.” His grin turned salacious. “But we don’t sleep. We fuck.”

“Oh my God.” Realization dawned on me. “You’re Mr. Asshole.”

Matt chuckled. “You’re certainly not the first one who’d called me that.”

“You said you had my phone.”

“Yeah, but …”

---