Green eyes skewered him, flashing fury. “You think I don’t know my mind?”

“Shit. No. That’s not what I think. Well, maybe a little. It’s just . . . sudden. And it makes me wonder what you wanted me to do.”

Her eyes widened at that. “You don’t know what to do?” she asked, still sarcastic. He actually remembered this Mercy. She’d been snarky when they’d first met, when she sat by his bedside for hours at a time. He’d never expected to be so captivated by such a sharp tongue.

“Oh, I know what to do. Trust me on that.” He could imagine it all too clearly, sinking into her body, hot and wet and tight. He shivered and cleared his throat. “Jesus, Mercy, I’m hanging on to my control by a thread. But I don’t want to be that man, just another person who takes advantage of you. You had a bad day and maybe you just want to be held. Maybe feel . . . I don’t know. Desired?” He saw a flicker of need in her eyes and knew he’d guessed right. “Maybe even show yourself that you could be with someone that way?”

Her cheeks flamed anew and she looked away. “Yes.”

Compassion filled his heart till it ached, but he also felt a smidge of resentment. “As much as I’d like that guy to be me, I want to know you want me. Not a convenient, warm body.”

Her mouth fell open. “Are you saying I’m a slut?”

He sighed. “No. God. Just . . . no. That’s the furthest thing from what I was saying.” He took a moment to figure out exactly what he wanted to tell her, then went with honesty. Even if it left him open to future pain. Which it would, he was pretty certain.

“I have feelings for you. Feelings I haven’t felt for anyone in a very long time. I don’t want this to be a one-and-done, and I suspect that it might be that for you. For tonight,” he added before she could object. “This is not me slut-shaming you. I want you to want me. For me. Because you have feelings for me, too. At least because you want me, too. But not because you’re challenging yourself to ‘take your life back.’”

She flinched. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize . . .” She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Rafe. I didn’t mean to make you feel unimportant.”

He wanted to sigh again, but bit it back. He wasn’t about to make her feel worse. “Come sit with me again,” he said gently. “I liked that, a lot.” He held out his hand, holding his breath once again until she took it. He pulled her close, letting the breath go in a silent, relieved sigh when she tucked herself into his side. “That’s better. So much better.”

“I feel like an idiot,” she muttered. “Can I just go back to my room?”

He chuckled. “You’re asking my permission?”