Page 12 of Not a Perfect Save

This time I don’t bother hiding my grin. “Oh, yeah?”

“Uh huh.” Her fingers drift down past my lips, jaw, and chest, all the way to my abs. My spine locks.

I drag in a deep breath. “What about your favorite ice cream flavor?” My voice is husky.

“Pistachio. On a cone.” She licks her lips.

“Cuisine?” I croak.

Her head tips to one side, her mouth pursed as if I’ve asked her for the formula of world peace. Finally, she says, “Thai.”

Dainty fingers are on the move again and crawl north. She starts to stroke my chest.

“I’m, uh, more of a meat-and-potatoes guy myself.” Duh. But I can’t think of anything better because my pulse is surging against her palm.

I groan. “Ella.” My hand covers hers for a second before bringing her knuckles to my lips. “I’m going back over there, okay?” I tip my head to the other bed, then attempt to let her go.

But she squeezes tight, and the space between her brows creases. “No, don’t go. Wait. Just for a bit.”

I rub the stubble on my chin with my other limb. Maybe this is a bad idea, but logic is beyond me right now. I settle down on the edge of her bed and hold her hand long after her grip slackens.

Chapter Eight

ELLA

Murmurs jolt me awake.It takes me a minute to place myself.

The robbery. The hospital.The Boy Scout.

For a second, I contemplate flipping over, but I muster the will to lever myself up into a sitting position with a miserable groan. My foot throbs, and I’m stiff and woozy. I eye the crutch propped beside me and wiggle my ankle.Holy fucci.I wheeze out, short quick breaths.

The room door is cracked open and voices reach me from outside. My name is mentioned—never, ever a good sign when strangers talk about you. I haul my aching body up and hobble out. Dan, Connor, and a woman are arguing by the dining table.

Connor is in a suit, and he is looking fine. Damned, damned fine. I’m tempted to wolf whistle, but I don’t think Damsels-In-Distress do that.

The conversation comes to an abrupt halt, and Connor turns to me. He saunters over, no evidence of a limp visible in his movements.

“Good morning.” The low and rumbly tone sends vibrations down my spine.“How are you feeling?”

“Fine, absolutely fine.” Not really. My ankle hurts like a motherfucci. Blue eyes scan me, head to toe, then sweep back up. My face heats as last night rushes back through me and my skin prickles at his gaze. I paste on a nonchalant smile, determined not to show any discomfiture.

Connor’s lips stretch into a cocky grin as if he can tell what’s running through my head. I want to smack it off his face.

“So, yeah… thank you for everything.” I wave in a lackluster gesture. “Let me just grab my stuff and I’ll call an Uber.”

“Umm… ” His smirk dissolves, and he rubs the back of his neck. I follow his gaze to Dan and the woman who are both eyeing him expectantly.

“Ella, this is Jessica Walker, the head of PR for the Titans,” Connor says.

“Okay.” I offer the woman a polite smile.

“So…” His voice trails off.

“Yes?”

“Uhhh...”

Jessica answers for him. “Miss Dixon. We’ve put out a statement about yesterday’s incident. However, rumors that Connor was hurt are flying. We’ll be holding a press conference at noon. We need you there.”

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