“That’s my line.” He took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, then gently tilted my head so he could examine my cheek.

“Finley’s really okay, right?”

“She’s fine. You’re both fine.” That last part was nearly a whisper.

My heart galloped as the adrenaline ran its course, and the sight of his lips so close to mine wasn’t helping slow its cadence. “Your house is beautiful,” I blurted, trying to think about anything other than what had just happened…or the warmth of his fingers. Those were dangerous subjects.

“Thanks. It works for us,” he said in that way guys had of dismissing compliments and giving me a half smile. He was good under pressure.

I tried to pull myself together while he dampened a washcloth at the kitchen sink, but he was back faster than I could manage the herculean task.

“You got blasted with sand and a few rocks, if your cuts are anything to gauge by. I want to clean it out.” He paused. “Unless you’d rather we go to the clinic?”

“No. Here is good.” I shifted my legs so he could get close enough to do it.

He stepped between my thighs, his hips resting against the insides of my bare knees. Mercy. The flush of heat that swept over my body had nothing to do with the warmth of the blanket and everything to do with his proximity. It had to be the adrenaline, right? One of those you-almost-died coping mechanisms?

It’s because he’s gorgeous as sin, you moron.

“This one looks the worst, but it’s not too deep,” he murmured, cradling the uninjured side of my face with warm, gentle fingers while assessing the other.

“Okay.” I mentally listed every reason I wasn’t allowed to be attracted to this man and prayed my body got with the program.

One, I was pretty sure he was in love with his ex and apparently something had gone down with them last night.

Two, he lived next door, which meant when whatever I wasn’t going to allow happen anyway eventually didn’t work out, I’d be stuck seeing him every freaking day.

Three…

I hissed as the washcloth brushed over an abrasion along my cheekbone.

“Sorry.” He dabbed carefully at the skin.

“Don’t worry,” I replied, trying to keep my eyes anywhere but on his and failing.

Three, his eyes were too blue. Ocean blue. Flawlessly freaking blue. That was a con because…well, because they were too distracting. Who the hell wanted to be constantly distracted like that? I’d never get anything done.

Four, I was in the middle of some pretty intensive therapy and didn’t have anything to offer. My emotional tank was on empty, and that wasn’t fair to him.

Five—

“This might hurt.”

Exactly. He’d said it perfectly. I’d already swallowed all the pain I could take when it came to relationships.