blew his breath out with a loud puff of air. “Sorry. Yeah, we’re friends. And I appreciate what you’re doing even if I’m acting like a dick.”
She patted his thigh. “It’s okay. You’re in pain and upset about your knee. I get it. But, stop feeling bad about asking me for help because I don’t feel obligated and I want to help you. All right?”
“Thanks, Kira.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll be right back with the ice pack and then I’ll get started on dinner.”
* * *
“Are you sure you had enough to eat?” Kira returned from the kitchen and took the lap tray off the bed. Connor stared at her perfect ass in her yoga pants as she bent and tucked the tray between the nightstand and the wall.
“Positive. Thank you again, you’re a really good cook.”
She laughed. “I’m so not a good cook, but even I can’t screw up chicken and rice.”
“I think you’re a good cook.” He tried not to stare at her tits as she sat down on the side of the bed.
“Only because you think popcorn is an acceptable dinner,” Kira said with another laugh.
He studied her face, itching to reach out and snag a strand of that amazingly soft blonde hair between his fingers. His urge to touch her got stronger with every passing day. The part of him that was worried about what that meant, was almost buried under the part of him that desperately wanted her soft body tucked under him while he slid his dick into her wet, tight pussy.
Kind of hard to have sex with Kira when your knee is totally fucked.
He massaged just above the brace on his right knee. There was an ice pack on his knee, and he wasn’t even the least bit tempted to lift it and study the swollen mess. He didn’t want to see the bruising that would be starting or the way the flesh strained as the swelling worsened. It reminded him too much of what it looked like after the accident.
You know you fucked it again, right? Everything’s torn to shit in there and this time they won’t be able to fix it. You’ll never walk right again, let alone jog or run or play baseball.
He tried to block out his inner voice, afraid that if he started to listen to it too long, he’d lose his fucking shit. The thought that his knee might be jacked for good sent terror through him. It didn’t help that inner Connor wouldn’t shut the fuck up about how he was facing a long road of surgery and physical therapy, and what Grant would say when Connor was off work for six goddamn months or more, and –
“Connor?”
Kira’s soft voice pulled him out of his spiral. He stared at her, knowing his anxiety was written all over his damn face, but utterly helpless to hide it.
When she took his hand, he linked their fingers together, fighting back his urge to ask her to lie on the bed beside him, to wrap her arms around him and tell him that everything would be fine.
“Everything will be fine,” Kira said.
He jerked, sending the ice pack sliding sideways on his knee. He winced when fresh pain lanced up and down his leg. Shit, was she reading his goddamn mind? Kira reached out with her free hand and shifted the ice pack back onto his knee, her touch infinitely gentle.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, and he was holding her hand too tight. He made himself relax his fingers so he wouldn’t crush hers.
“It’s going to be just fine,” she said. “I did some reading while you were sleeping this afternoon and I know I’m not a doctor or anything, but I don’t think you’ve torn your ACL or MCL again. You didn’t do a sharp stop and twist or anything like that, and that’s usually how they get torn, right? You go one way and your knee goes the other and it’s,” she paused, “rip city.”
His smile was more of a grimace and she rubbed her thumb along the knuckle of his thumb. “I know it’s really sore and looks awful, but it isn’t fractured or dislocated and the odds of it being re-ruptured or re-torn are really low. It’s probably so swollen and sore because your knee was already traumatized. I’ve seen you limping, and I know it bugs you sometimes. It’s predisposed to be injured more easily.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he said.
She squeezed his hand until he looked at her. “It’s