Carides's Forgotten Wife Read Online Free PDF

would lay her heart out there for him to see, risk everything and get rejected.
    She’d decided she’d rather skip a few steps.
    “Is it nearly dinnertime?”
    She turned toward the sound of the gruff, sleepy voice and her heart nearly evaporated, right along with her good intentions. He was wearing nothing more than a pair of black, low-slung pants. His chest was bare, and she ought to be concerned about his wounds. About the bandage over his shoulder, the dark purple bruises streaked along his torso. Instead, her eyes chose mostly to fixate on his muscles.
    On his perfectly defined chest, on the muscles in his abs that were rippling with each indrawn breath.
    “I think so,” she said, well aware that she sounded a little bit like she was the one who had been hit over the head.
    “I’m starving,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. He was holding a gray T-shirt in his hand, but made no move to put it on. “This is the first time I’ve been hungry since the accident. It’s quite nice. I don’t suppose you’ll allow me to have a drink yet?”
    “Still medicated, Leon.”
    “I’m starting to think that I would sacrifice pain medication for a drink.” He frowned. “Do I drink a lot?”
    She tried to think of Leon’s habits. She wasn’t overly familiar with them, since they didn’t spend all that much time together. But, come to think of it, he was rarely without a drink in his hand.
    “A bit,” she said, cautiously. “Though I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at.”
    “I have been craving a drink ever since I woke up. I don’t know if it’s simply because I’m in a situation of extreme stress or if I potentially have a bit of a dependency.”
    “You go out a lot,” she said. “And why don’t you put your shirt on?”
    She sounded a little more desperate than she would have liked, but if he found it out of the ordinary, he didn’t show it.
    She wasn’t supposed to pile a lot of information on him. She really was supposed to wait until he questioned things. But she was finding it difficult. Part of her wanted to dump the truth on him and then leave him in the hands of a doctor or nurse.
    But he had been there for her the night of prom. He had also been there for her when her father had died. And this was what her father would want for her to do. Because he’d cared about Leon. Leon had always been the son her father had never had. Oftentimes she had felt like she was competing for affection, though she knew her father had loved her, too.
    Her father wouldn’t want Leon abandoned right now.
    And so she would stay.
    And she would do her very best not to upset him.
    “I can’t,” he said, standing there still, the shirt clutched tightly in his hand.
    “What do you mean you can’t?”
    “I’m having trouble getting the shirt on. My ribs are too sore.” He held his hand out slightly, the shirt still clutched in his fist. “Can you help me?”
    All of the air rushed from her lungs, her heart beating a steady rhythm in her ears. “I—” She was supposed to be his wife. There should be nothing remarkable about the request. There was nothing remarkable about it either way. He was an injured man and he needed help. He didn’t need her to be weird.
    She cleared her throat and crossed the space between them, hesitating for a moment before she reached out and took hold of the shirt. Their fingers brushed as he relinquished it to her, and a shiver ran down her spine.
    She needed to get a grip.
    “When you say I go out a lot, you mean that I go to parties?”
    She nodded, swallowing hard, her throat suddenly dry. “Yes.” She held the shirt so it was facing the right direction and gathered the material up. “You need to...duck your head or bend as much as you can.”
    He bent slightly and she pushed the shirt over his head, dragging it down to his shoulders, his skin scorching hers as her knuckles brushed against his collarbone.
    “And you?” he asked.
    She