Kane’s head lifts from where he was attempting to fold his frame onto the narrow sofa. His hair is still damp from the shower, wearing the fresh clothes Elsa packed—soft grey t-shirt that clings to his shoulders.
“That’s a dangerous invitation.” But he is already standing, exhaustion winning over propriety.” Fair warning—I sleep close. And I haven’t slept in three days, so if you change your mind, you’ll have to physically shove me off.”
He approaches the bed with careful movement, hyper aware of her injuries. The mattress dips as he settles on top of the covers beside her, maintaining a deliberate few inches of space.
Turning his head on the pillow to look at her. “This is torture you know. You’re right there and I can’t—” he stops himself, jaw tight. “Tell me something. Anything. Dist
