I frowned and stared at the identification band wrapped around her wrist. “You shouldn’t have been on the yacht. I pushed for that, even when you didn’t want to.”
“Oh, I wanted to, believe me.” She peered up at me with longing. “If I hadn’t gotten sick, tell me we wouldn’t still be out there right now, in your bed, finding out if I could stay quiet.”
She wasn’t wrong, and I drew in a breath, letting it fill my lungs.
“Things happen,” she said. “And sometimes those things can’t be controlled, even by you.” She let go of my hand, only so she could grab a fistful of my sweater covering my chest and pull me down to her, bringing our faces level. “I know you want to, but you can’t control everything.”
On some level, I understood what she was saying. I hadn’t been able to force Marist to love me, or Alice to stop loving me. Even now, I couldn’t control the feelings developing for Sophia, no matter how hard I fought against them.
She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to mine as her hand slipped behind the back of my neck. Her skin was as warm and soft as her voice. “Thank you for saving me.”
It was unclear who initiated the kiss, but once my lips were on hers, I took command, and the emotions I’d struggled to keep at bay poured through me. She sank back in the bed, letting me taste her longing and her eagerness at the passion I finally permitted to flow between us.
I’d put my mouth on her earlier to bring her back to life, but this time it was more powerful. I kissed her as if I loved her. Slow, and deep, and I lingered when it was over.
I asked it in a hush against her lips. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine.” She tried to kiss me again, but I held back.
“You’ll ‘be fine’ implies that you are not.”
She strived for a joking tone, but it was forced. “It’s one rib, no big deal. I have, like, a bunch more.”
“Jesus.” I straightened, setting my hands on the railing at the side of her bed.
“It doesn’t hurt that bad, and they gave me something for it. It really only bothers me when I move.”
“And breathe,” I added.
Her mouth skewed to one side. She looked like she wanted to shrug but stopped herself just in time. “I’m happy it hurts to breathe because that means I’m still alive, and that’s thanks to you.” She put her hand on top of one of mine. “Got to be honest, though. There’s no fucking way you’ll ever get me on your yacht again.”
When I nodded, her eyebrows pulled together.
“What?” she demanded. “You’re not going to scold me about my language?”
“No. It is appropriate today.”
She made a sound of approval. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true.” Her blue eyes scoured over me and filled with worry. “Are you okay?”
I could only imagine what I looked like. My reflection in the mirror of the restroom when I’d changed showed me that exhaustion had set in. The brief amount of sleep I’d gotten in the waiting room had been uncomfortable and restless and done nothing to help.
“I could use a shower,” I admitted.
“You and me both.”
It came from me without considering the consequences. “Come home with me.”
I watched excitement form in her eyes, but they slowly darkened with disappointment. “Thanks, but my aunt is driving up from Providence right now to help me. Not sure how I would explain I want to spend the night with my boss.”
I felt both letdown and relief. I wanted her near, but nurturing wasn’t in my wheelhouse. “I understand.”
Sophia tried to disguise her hope. “Will you stay until she gets here?”
Although I was tired and hated hospitals, I’d stay with her as long as possible. There wasn’t anywhere else to be but here with her.
“Of course.”
The belt on my treadmill began to make a noise I didn’t like, a mechanical whine that grew in intensity at faster speeds. I made a note in my phone to text Elliot, the head of my household staff, about it later today. It was one in the morning, and if he received a text from me now, he’d assume it was urgent.
Since my phone was already in hand, I opened Instagram and went to Sophia’s account. It’d been four days since I’d revived her on the deck of my yacht, and four days since I’d seen her in person. She’d sent me pictures, though. One of them included the horrific bruise on her arm from where the boom had struck her, but she promised it looked worse than it was.
I admired how tough she seemed to be. We spoke via text throughout the day, and she never complained. She was eager to come back to the office, and I was eager for that as well. Not only was her working remotely a challenge, but I missed her.