Grey matter that abruptly shunts the conversation out of my head.
Sol says something.
I don’t immediately understand it. It’s just words with no meaning or structure, and he discards his book and holds my head still as he shifts down the bed, bringing us face to face.
“You should sleep more,” he murmurs.
“I’m fine.”
“Didn’t say you weren’t.”
“Where’s Mal?”
“Around here somewhere. Want me to get him?”
“No.”
Sol’s lips twitch. “Are you annoyed with him about the Folk thing?”
Am I?
I picture my brother’s face. All sharp edges and belligerence, until I look deeper and see the scar of every war he’s fought and every friend he’s lost weighing him down. “I don’t want to be. You might need to kick me if you catch me being a moody cunt with him.”
“I’d eat my own foot first.”
Sol is so beautiful. Inside. Out. I want to stay in this bed with him forever. But I need other things too—things I can’t ignore.
I let him help me upright. Then I leave the room and pass through the bathroom. Look for Mal as I palm my meds in the kitchen and find Skylar instead. Let him ask me enough questions about my vision and balance that I’m annoyed by the time I get back to my room.
Sol has barely moved. He’s wearing different sweats from last night and nothing else, but he’s still bare-chested and it calls to me.
I shut the door and lean against it, tasting toothpaste as I run my tongue over my molars. “What happened to your shoulder?”
“Hmm?”
“Your shoulder.” I advance on the bed and graze my knuckles over the welt I haven’t noticed until now. The bruise is healing, purple bleeding into yellow, but even faded it’s nasty as hell. “You haven’t?—”
I cut myself off, pursing my lips.
Sol sits up and holds out his hand. “Haven’t what?”
“This thing with your dad. I’m worried you’ll end up fighting to protect him and it’s you who’ll get hurt.”
“I’m not a fighter, Jackie.”
No. He’s a lover. And I want him to be mine. A thought that has me sliding back into bed as I remind myself Sol can hold his own in a punch-up. That he can even win against most men who aren’t Rebel Kings or SAS operators.
The bed swallows me up. I roll straight into Sol’s orbit and I’m kissing him before I make a conscious decision to do it. And I know it’s going to take us further than we’ve ever been with even less contemplation.
Instinct takes over.
Or maybe I’m just so fucking starved for everything Sol has always been. Everything that’s been right in front of me my whole life.
Either way, I have him on his back beneath me before either of us can take a breath. I pin him with my weight and he arches into me like he did when I had his cock in my fist…yesterday? I think.
Doesn’t matter.
Or if it does, I can’t think about it. I can only think about Sol right now, as he stares up at me, his chest rising and falling too fast, questions in his eyes that scare me.