Fawn’s POV
“Yes. I want someone in this apartment whose first priority is whether I stop breathing,” I said. “Not whether your shirt’s buttoned. If it is, then yeah, maybe you should find someone who doesn’t look at you like you’re dessert and I’m chopped liver.”
Silence stretched for a beat.
His gaze dropped, just for a second, to my mouth. The same mouth he’d been devouring a minute ago. Heat prickled under my skin again—stupidly, traitorously.
He dragged his eyes back up. “I’ll speak to her,” he said at last. “For now, she stays the night. I’m not leaving you without a nurse. Tomorrow, we reassess.”
It wasn’t everything I wanted, but it was something.
“Fine,” I said. “But if she tries to take my pulse without a stethoscope, I’m throwing something.”
“That’s not how you take a puls
