“Once in a while. Most of the time he left me with his sister.”

“The one you saw tonight?” Suspicion bloomed in Conor’s chest. Louisa’s aunt had upset her tonight.

“Yes.” Her voice faltered.

Wanting a connection with her, Conor reached across the comforter and put his hand over hers, careful not to touch her bandaged palm. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“Tomorrow.” She pulled the covers up to her neck. “Tell me about your brothers and sister.”

“Jayne and Danny were a handful, that’s for sure.” He told her about some of the trouble they got into, including the time they stole a car. He talked until her eyes closed and her breaths evened out.

Conor, used to being awake until the early hours, waited fifteen minutes before he gently lifted the ice pack from her face and returned it to the freezer. He eased back onto the bed and adjusted the pillow behind his head.

Louisa sighed. Still asleep, she rolled toward him. Her temple settled against his shoulder, the intimacy of the weight of her head on his body spurring an urge to gather her closer, but he didn’t want to disturb her. How would she react when she found him in her bed tomorrow morning?

Didn’t matter.

No matter how secure her building, there was no way he was leaving her alone. Not after she could have been killed. Conor rested his temple against her hair and breathed in the scent of her shampoo. He was staying right here, all night.

CHAPTER 21

21

Why hadn’t she drawn the shades? Sunlight burned Louisa’s eyeballs right through her closed lids. She tried to go back to sleep, but pain pulsed through her face. The ibuprofen had worn off. Her knees protested with stiffness and fire as she rolled away from the glare, opened her eyes, and stared at a man’s rib cage.

She jolted. Ow. Straightening her leg, she eased her left knee into a more comfortable position. Then she turned her attention back to the half-naked man in her bed.

Next to her, Conor reclined on two pillows. He was still dressed in his jeans, but he’d removed his shirt and shoes during the night. His eyes were closed, and his jaw was shadowed, as usual. Her gaze drifted down. After all, she knew what his face looked like, but she’d never seen him without a shirt. Oh my. The arm flung over his head stretched his torso taut. His body was all about understated power. A scattering of dark hair swirled across his pectorals. Firm muscle expanded his broad chest and shoulders and defined a lean abdomen. She swallowed, the sight of his body stirring a primal need inside her. Her eyes followed the line of dark hair that swirled into the waistband of his jeans and led to—

“Good morning.” His throaty voice startled her.