Emma checked his breathing. It was so shallow she couldn’t force herself to leave him here alone.
Plus, he’d asked her not to leave.
It was late, and she was exhausted after the adrenaline crash, but she was terrified he would stop breathing in the night. So she stayed awake, watching his chest rise and fall, straining her ears for the sound of breathing. And when her eyes got too heavy to hold open another minute, she draped her legs across his chest so she could feel his breath and slumped her head back against the side of the bed.
In the final moments before she fell asleep, she thought of Dustin’s brother. Dustin drove her nuts most of the time, and if she didn’t want to slap him ten times in a twenty-four-hour period, it was a slow day, but he was D-Team. And though she would never admit it, Dustin felt like a friend. The most annoying friend she had, but a friend nonetheless.
Something dark and ugly inside of her hated his brother, whoever he was.
Chapter Three
Emma cracked her eye open. The ache in her neck was ridiculous, and as she took stock of where she was, it made sense. She was lying on Dustin’s pallet and someone had stuffed two pillows under her head. Her neck was basically at a ninety-degree angle, and when she moved, her ear hurt. Her hearing aids were small and sleek, but part of them rested behind her ears and she’d slept on one. She groaned as she sat up, but could barely hear her voice. Crap.
She fiddled with the aids, but both were out of batteries thanks to her not charging them long enough last night and leaving them on.
It was early October now in the Smoky Mountains, and cold, but she felt fine thanks to Dustin who had tucked her in like a child. He’d even shoved the edges of the blanket under her like she was a burrito. On a paper towel next to her on the floor, her toothbrush sat beside her half empty tube of toothpaste and a white paper bag that smelled like it harbored a fruit-filled donut. Maybe she was dreaming. Emma rubbed her eyes and blinked hard, but nope, not dreaming. Everything was still there.
When she sat up, the blanket slipped down past her bare boobs. Emma squawked and yanked the covers back up. Dustin was brushing his teeth at the sink and smiled cheerily at her through the mirror.
“Why am I naked?” she asked, but could barely hear herself and grew self-conscious she was speaking too loud and not enunciating enough. She hated when she didn’t have her hearing aids.
Dustin frowned and turned. “You don’t remember?” he asked, and clear enough she could read his lips.
Clutching the blanket, she shook her head.
“We fooled around. Twice. I was a stud and you were okay, but we’ll improve with time. Your hair looks like a bird’s nest.”
Emma’s mouth plopped open in horror. No. No, no, no, she wouldn’t have slept with Dustin. Not him.
Dustin did look quite recovered now with color in his cheeks. And apparently he’d taken his first aid into his own hands because he’d cut his own damn stitches out. “You said my dick was huge, and I said thank you, and you said I was the best you’d ever had, and I said thank you, and then you asked me to eat you out, and I said, ‘it’s not my favorite, but you saved my life, so okay—’”
“Dustin! Tell me you are joking!”
Dustin belted out a laugh loud enough for her to hear. “You should see your face right now. You look so dumb. Nice tits by the way.” He held his hands up as if he was squeezing them in the air. “Perfectly symmetrical. Do you know how rare that is? You’re like a unicorn, Em.”
“Again, why am I naked?”
Dustin reared back and looked scandalized. “Because you can’t sleep with your clothes on. Who does that? I’ll tell you who. No one. You’re welcome.”
Emma shook her head to rattle out the imaginings of Perv-Wolf undressing her in her sleep. She didn’t point out he’d actually slept in his bloody jeans because, at this point, she just wanted to escape. She snatched her neatly folded pile of clothes—undies on top—and dressed as best she could under the covers. “How did you get my stuff out of my room?”
Dustin hunched like the volume of her voice hurt his dog ears. “I told John we were fucking when I returned the first-aid kit, and he gave me the key to your room. What’s wrong with your voice?”
Heat blasted into her cheeks, and she ripped her eyes away from his lips because she didn’t want to read them anymore. She had never been so embarrassed in her entire life. Dustin had seen her naked!
She stood and bolted for the door, but Dustin was there in a blur, looking confused, hand splayed on the door to keep it closed. “What did I do wrong?” He looked back at the room. “I got your morning shit and food to feed you. I researched what humans eat. Who knew it’s the same shit I eat, just less meat, and furthermore, your shirt is on backward.” He reached for her. “I can fix it.”
Emma slapped his hand so hard it stung her fingertips. And then she signed a long string of curses at him because she sure as hell wasn’t going to talk again after he’d made fun of her voice.
His eyes got round as full moons. “What did you just do? Did you hex me? Is that voodoo shit? Take it back! I don’t need bad mojo, Emma!” He grabbed her wrists and flopped her hands around, but he was pissing her off, so she yanked out of his grasp, clenched her fist, and blasted it at his jaw like Dad had taught her. Only Dustin ducked neatly, and she hit the door with her knuckles.
“Oooow!” she howled. He hunched again, covered his ears, then hurried and covered his balls like a genius because she really was considering kneeing him in the groin. Again.