Chapter 9
Josh
After Hill showered and got back into bed, a detective came to interview him, so he urged me to go to his hotel for the night and return in the morning.
I felt guilty leaving, but I was sure he’d feel awkward having me stay with him overnight.
So I put my laptop in my backpack, grabbed my suitcase, and left him alone with the detective.
The security guard outside the room promised to make sure Hill got dinner.
Carl had put my name on the hotel room—or suite, as I was corrected when I picked up the key.
I’d never stayed anywhere so luxurious. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, a small kitchen, and a dining room.
Hill’s things were in one of the bedrooms, so I took the other.
I sent photos of the suite to the grands, then I went to bed and promptly passed out.
In the morning, I took a cab back to the hospital. The guard outside Hill’s room was new, but he let me in after I showed him my ID. Hill was sitting in a chair by the window, the remains of his breakfast on a tray. I held up my backpack. “I brought your clothes. Has the doctor been by yet?”
“Not yet.”
As if summoned, the doctor arrived. After interrogating Hill about his pain level, he examined the stab wound, a nasty-looking four-inch slice along Hill’s ribs kept shut with efficient but brutal stitches. I couldn’t breathe for thinking about how close he’d come to dying.
The doctor unwrapped the bandages around Hill’s head. Most of the contusion was under his hair, but he had some swelling and bruising on his forehead.
The doctor, however, was pleased. “One hour of screen time or less until tomorrow morning. Make sure you do light exercise—walking, no running—daily. No heavy exertion or sex until the headaches and dizziness are gone.” He stared at me for that last bit.
After he left, Hill changed clothes. The security guard, who Hill addressed as Alain, escorted us to a waiting car.
A bunch of photographers flashed their cameras and shouted questions at us, but Hill ignored them.
Alain made sure Hill and I were safely in the back seat, then he got in front with the driver.
When we reached the hotel suite, Hill was tired and went to lie down.
I tried to rest as well, but my body clock was off, so I ended up at the dining table with my laptop.
The manuscript was due to my proofreader next week, and with the travel, I wasn’t sure I’d have it polished enough to where I was happy with it before I had to send it off.
I needed to read it aloud, which made me slow down and look at each word as well as verifying that the dialogue sounded natural for the audiobook narrator.
But I didn’t want to interfere with Hill’s rest, so silent reading it was.
He emerged from his bedroom around noon, blinking sleepily, but his forehead wasn’t creased with pain like it’d been last night. I got him a glass of water, and he sat at the table with me. “Do you want to order lunch or go to a restaurant?”
He shuddered. “I’m not ready to brave the public yet.”
“Understandable.” I found the room service menu and placed our order. The hotel staff spoke English, for which I was grateful.
After I hung up, I examined Hill’s bruised face. “How’s your headache?”
“Not too bad right now. After lunch, I’d like to try walking on the treadmill downstairs.”
“Good idea. I could use some exercise myself.”
He gave me an unfairly sexy smile. “As much as I’d enjoy the company, you don’t have to escort me everywhere. Alain or Denis can do that.”
I made a face. “If I stay in the suite, I have to do more editing.”
“Okay, fair enough.”
Hill’s phone rang, and he excused himself, going into the bedroom to take the call. When he came out again, he was promising someone named Trevor he’d get to Brazil within the week. I thought that was a little premature, but he kept making comments about not holding production up.
After lunch we changed clothes. I was not prepared for Hill in tiny shorts, and I had a hard time keeping my gaze above his waist. How the fuck was I supposed to get through this week without flirting when he looked like that?
Alain went with us to the hotel’s gym, which was thankfully empty.
I jumped on the treadmill next to Hill, going only slightly faster than he was since I didn’t want to make him feel bad.
We chatted about his movie, and he asked me to go over his lines with him later.
I was relieved to have something productive to help him with.
Twenty minutes in, Hill stopped his treadmill. He grasped the sides of the machine and closed his eyes, his face twisted up. I hit my Stop button and leaned toward him. “Are you dizzy? Headache?”
He sucked in a breath. “Both. Came on suddenly.”
I helped him over to a bench, and Alain produced a bottle of water from somewhere. After taking a few sips, Hill leaned back against the wall, his eyes still closed. Hovering anxiously, I twisted my hands, frustrated I couldn’t do anything to help him. Why hadn’t I thought to bring his pain meds?
Finally he sighed and sat forward, squinting like his head hurt.
“I think I can make it upstairs now.” I stood up and he held on to my hand as he got to his feet, not letting go as we walked to the elevator and rode it up to our floor.
I was sorry when we got to the suite and he went to lay down again.
I tried to get him to take the paid meds, but he declined. Over his protests, I took his shoes off. “You’ll be more comfortable without them.” He huffed but closed his eyes while I pulled the duvet up to his chest. “I’ll be editing if you need anything.” He grunted, and I left.
An hour later, he walked out of the bedroom, clutching the duvet around his shoulders with one hand so it trailed behind him like a cape. He’d changed out of his workout gear and was in a hoodie and sweatpants. “Hey, can you take a break?” He held up a huge stack of bound pages.
I saved my document and gratefully pushed back from the table. “Sure. Let’s sit on the sofa. Are you feeling better?” I went to the kitchen to grab us some water.
He made a face. “Yeah. I hope I can walk longer tomorrow.” He lowered himself carefully to the sofa, and I plopped down with much less grace on the other end.
I grinned. “Was it just me, or did your doctor seem overly concerned that I might have my wicked way with you before you were fully healed?”
Hill laughed. “He did. That’ll have to be a stretch goal.” He winked.
I laughed too, but... could he be testing the waters to see if I was open to it?
Hmmm. It wasn’t like we had a future together, but hooking up for a few days before we both went back to our respective lives could be mutually satisfying.
I looked him up and down. “Oh, there’ll be stretching all right. ”
He groaned and covered his face with the script. “That was terrible.”
Smirking, I reached out and poked his leg with my sock-covered toes. If we were to the point of making dirty jokes with each other, we were friends now. “Hand the script over. Let’s see what Oscar-level performance you’ve got in you.”
He gave me a flat look as he passed it to me. “We’re just running lines. I can’t emote properly with a concussion.”
I snorted. “I’ll try to keep that in mind as I evaluate your delivery.”
“Hey!” But he was smiling, all traces of pain gone from his face.
Safe House was a thriller, with Hill as an ex-spy tracking down the people who’d killed his partner.
We started with the scenes he’d be filming in Brazil, which involved him confronting a suspect in the murder.
Protests about his concussion to the contrary, when reading the lines he became a completely different person, focused and deadly.
“Holy fuck, Hill!” We’d gone through the dialogue twice. “You nailed the lines, and if that was you not trying very hard because of the concussion, I can't wait to see the real thing on screen.”
He relaxed back into the cushions and put his feet up on the coffee table. “Thanks. I was worried I'd forgotten everything after the head injury. But, man, that took a lot out of me.”
According to my watch, we’d been at it for a little over twenty minutes, which was apparently the limit of Hill’s stamina for any kind of exertion today. Hopefully he’d have more energy tomorrow.
“I'm going to lie here on the couch for a little bit. If you want to go back to your editing, feel free. I wish I could watch TV, but I'll just zone out for a while instead.”
“Do you listen to audiobooks?”
He shook his head, then winced and put his fingers to his bruised and swollen forehead. “No. I prefer to read, and if I want to listen to something, I play music.”
I looked over at my laptop, still sitting on the dining table. “I'm at the stage in my editing where I usually read the book out loud to myself. It's a good way to catch awkward phrasing and typos. Would you be interested in listening to me read it?”
He opened one eye. “This is the book about the pregnant actor?”
“Yeah. It's going off to the proofreader next week.”
His smile was wide. “Hell yes! I’m dying to hear the story I inspired.”
“Great! That'll help me a lot. Let me get my laptop.” I stood up and walked over to the dining table. “You know, the original inspiration for the story was Cole Washburn. But you gave me a big portion of the plot.”
He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “No! You didn’t say I’d have to share credit when I signed up to help you!”
I rolled my eyes as I sat back down on the couch. “You'll live.”
“Yeah, but I need to hear that story. The one about Cole, I mean.”
Cocking my head, I thought back over our text exchanges. “Huh. I could’ve sworn I told you what happened, but I guess not.”
“No, and Cole only said you came to his rescue or something.”
I told him how I’d met Cole while I opened my laptop and scrolled back to the beginning of my novel.
“Okay, here goes. Chapter One.” When I was reading aloud to myself, I could get through several thousand words in an hour, even if I had to stop and fix typos here and there.
Reading to Hill went much more slowly, because I had to emphasize the right words and enunciate everything properly so he could understand what the hell was going on.
He also interrupted occasionally to laugh or make a comment about something the main character was doing.
But we weren’t in a hurry, and Hill was entertained.
What I hadn't considered, though, was the sex scene two-thirds of the way through the first chapter.
It was integral to the plot, because this was where the actor character became pregnant, so I couldn't skip over it. However, the scene was extremely explicit. When I got to the part where one character was reaching into the other’s pants, Hill threw up his hands.
“How did I not know there were books like this out there?”
Smirking, I regarded him over the top of my laptop screen. “I have to warn you, it’s about to get hot and heavy. Since you're under restrictions, are you sure you want to hear it? I can jump ahead if it would make things less... frustrating.”
He scoffed. “Oh, hell no. Keep going.”
I read on. The characters got naked. They made out and felt each other up. A lot. Hill was shifting in his seat. I didn’t comment, just kept going.
The characters agreed to go without condoms. The actor character wanted to bottom, and his hookup, who was secretly a wolf shifter, accidentally popped a knot, though of course the actor didn’t realize what it was.
Neither did Hill. “Wait, he feels the guy’s dick get bigger? Kind of a porn-style exaggeration, don’t you think?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t insult the writer. All will be made clear.” Hill grumbled a bit but left it at that. He’d bunched the duvet up in his lap, which I assumed was to hide his erection.
Luckily my laptop blocked the evidence of my own arousal.
Before starting Chapter 2, we took a break and ordered dinner. Hill took the duvet back into his room while we waited. I was dying to duck into mine and rub one out, but if Hill had to endure this edging, I’d endure it with him.
I hoped like hell he’d have sex with me after he recovered, though.
After dinner, he urged me to keep reading the book.
We got through the actor’s realization that something was very, very wrong, and his first attempts to search for the previous night’s hookup.
But when I was yawning more than reading, I had to shut my laptop.
“Gonna take a break,” I muttered, closing my eyes and scooching down into the couch cushions.
“No.” Hill stood up, and I felt him take my laptop from my hands. “If you sleep like that, you’ll regret it tomorrow.”
“Probably jet lag or somethin’. I’ll get up in a minute.”
“Uh huh.” He grabbed my hands and tugged lightly. “Come on. Bedtime.”
“Noooo.” I resisted, pressing my face into the couch. Hill’s grip was firm, though. And warm.
“Yes. Don’t make me lift you. The doctor would be mad if I set my recovery back.”
I snapped my eyes open and glared into his grinning face. “That’s low.”
“But effective. Come on. Up.”
“Fine.” I sighed but let him pull me to my feet. “Why aren’t you tired?”
“I am, but...” He frowned and glanced to the left.
“But?”
He let go of one of my hands to rub his jaw. “Last night, I had some pretty bad dreams.” He looked away. “Napping went okay, but now it’s dark, and....”
I blinked, my brain roaring back to wakefulness. “Would it help if I slept with you?” I grimaced and held up a hand. “Just for sleep.”
He gave me a hopeful half-smile. “Would you mind?”
“Of course not. Let me go brush my teeth and I’ll be right back.”
The relief on his face was enormous.
When I entered Hill’s bedroom, he was already under the covers. He pulled the other side down for me. “Thanks. I hope this isn’t making things weird.”
“It’s not weird, Hill. I promise.”
He touched his forehead. “Yeah, well, I’m regretting listening to your sexy story now because I’m worried I’ll end up humping you in the middle of the night.”
I laughed. “You have my permission, as long as you don’t come.”
He raised his eyebrows hopefully. “But you’ll let me come later, when I’m better?”
Inwardly in awe of my own daring, I raised myself up on one elbow, then I leaned over and kissed his mouth. “I’m counting on it.”
I’d given up on being just friends with Hill. All I could do was hope it wouldn’t hurt too badly when we parted ways.