I woke up to a backache, a dry mouth, and Dario.
In my room.
Again.
“You really need to stop doing that,” I groaned, dragging a pillow over my face. “You’re like a sexy sleep paralysis demon.”
“I let you sleep.”
“Which is sweet of you, considering I was in my bed.”
I peeked out from under the pillow. He was standing by the window again, back to me, arms folded like some brooding Greek statue brought to life by poor emotional choices.
His voice was low. Careful. “You tossed and turned all night.”
“Well, gee, I wonder why.” I threw the pillow aside and sat up, hair a mess, mascara still smudged from the night before. “Maybe it’s because the guy who doesn’t want me keeps breaking into my life to act like he does.”
He didn’t turn. Didn’t speak. And that made me angrier.
“Don’t stand
