Read Online The Street Where She Lives by Jill Shalvis - Free Book Online Page B

face was grim, so obviously her brain was messing with her again. “Don’t try to move,” he said. “I’ll lift you.”
    She stopped breathing, realizing just that very second what his being here really meant. He was going to have to help her, look at her.
    Touch her.
    Before the panic fully gripped her, he moved, not toward her, but to her dresser, where he randomly opened one of her drawers. Shaking his head at the rows of socks, he closed it and opened another.
    â€œWhat are you looking for?”
    He lifted a loose, flowing silky camisole and matching bottoms, and his eyebrows at the same time. “Wow.”
    The two pieces were the palest of blue, softer thanbaby’s breath, and her favorite thing to sleep in. And yet dangling from his long fingers, the innocent pj’s suddenly seemed like the sexiest things she’d ever seen.
    She was not putting them on.
    â€œYou used to wear buttoned-up-to-the-chin flannel to bed, remember?”
    â€œI was a kid.”
    Something flickered in his eyes. “Not so much.”
    Before she could come up with something to say to that, he’d tossed the pj’s on his shoulder and started toward her.
    In spite of the exhaustion, the pain, she managed to shake her head. “I am not putting that on for you.”
    He turned down her bed and laughed, a low, husky sound that grated at every hormone in her entire body. “You’re right about that. You’re putting it on for you.”
    â€œBen.”
    â€œRachel,” he mimicked, then in opposition to his easygoing toughness, he slid his arms around her, making her breath back up in her throat, making every single thought dance right out of her head.
    â€œEasy now,” he murmured. “It’s loose and stretchy, so it should go on easily.” And gently, so gently she felt like she was being lifted by air, he rose with her in his arms. “Okay?” His eyes roamed her features, his mouth tight in concern.
    A concern she didn’t want. “Put me down.”
    He did, on the bed, and a myriad of things hit her at once. Pain from the jarring, no matter how careful he’d been. Comfort from the feel of her own bed after so many weeks. And sheer overwhelming devastation from the feel of his hands on her.
    Then he reached for the buttons on her short-sleevedblouse. She let out a sound that make his gaze jerk up to hers.
    â€œYou can’t undress yourself,” he said reasonably.
    â€œI’ll— I’ll sleep in my clothes.”
    â€œOh, that’ll be comfortable.” He looked into her stubborn face and sighed, stroking a light finger over her cheekbone. “You’re wearing your exhaustion like a coat. Just let me help you.”
    She opened her mouth and he put his finger to it. “There was a time you let me help you with anything. Remember?”
    She didn’t want to remember, but somehow his touch, like his kiss, insinuated itself past her bone deep weariness and pain, and struck her like a bolt of awareness lightning. “Get Emily. She’ll help me.”
    Slowly Ben shook his head and removed the bunny slippers Emily had put on her feet at the hospital. “She’s making you dinner. Mac and cheese. She’s under the impression you’re going to bounce right back now that you’re home. Bringing her up here now, when you look half a breath away from death, would only scare her.”
    She closed her eyes when his fingers brushed over her buttons again, squeezed them tighter as he pulled the blouse open and gently off her shoulders, past the cast on her arm, taking such slow, aching, tender care with her broken body she felt her eyes burn.
    No. No falling apart until you’re alone.
    He unhooked her bra and slid it off before pulling the stretchy, laced pj’s top over her head, very tenderly guiding her casted arm through the wide armhole. The material tugged at her nipples, and a shocking bolt