She stared up at him, her breathing erratic, trying to work out what had just happened.
And how he’d moved that fast . . .
“You’re like Clark Kent,” she whispered.
She’d always had a thing for Superman.
She bet he had impressive forearms.
Corbin helped her sit up. “Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?”
“Huh?” Her brain was still trying to figure out how he could move faster than the speed of light.
Or that’s how it had seemed anyway.
“That was . . . you moved . . . I nearly . . .”
“You nearly gave yourself a hell of a concussion,” he said sternly. “What were you trying to do?”
“I was trying to cover up my boobs so I wouldn’t be playing peek-a-boo with my nipples!”
Yikes.
That wasn’t something she’d meant to say either.
With a groan, she covered her face with her hands. “This isn’t happening. I’m still asleep. That’s the only explanation.”
“Hey,” Corbin said in a quiet voice. “Bebe, look at me.”
“I can’t. If I look at you, then this is actually happening and it can’t be. I’ve never been like this before. Do you think there’s something wrong with me? Is it a medical condition? It has to be . . .”
“Do not say that,” he replied firmly.
“You’re right. It’s terrible to say that. There are people who have actual medical conditions. And I’m a horrible, awful person for even saying that?—”
A large hand covered her mouth.
Um. She was trying to breathe here!
She attempted to speak, even though it just came out in a mumble.
“Hush, Bebe.”
She grabbed his hand, tugging it away. “You could have just said that instead of trying to suffocate me.”
“Look at me, Bluebelle.”
Uh-oh. Her whole name. She was in trouble. She glanced up at him as he moved off the bed and grabbed a blanket, pulling it up so it covered her.
“All you had to do was ask me to move so you could shift the blanket.”
Right.
She could have done that.
“Yes, well, you were freaking out about Hayes’ butt,” she said before thinking better of it.
“We are not talking about Hayes’ butt.”