The S Before Ex. Mira Kelly Lyn

little. But then she’d been too keyed up to register the basic needs of her body.

      “Food?”

      A harsh breath sounded above her head, and in an abrupt shift, Ryan swung her into his arms and carried her the few steps to the bed, depositing her without finesse.

      “Stay there.”

      Ryan took the stairs three at a time, rounding the second level in a matter of seconds.

       Food.

      He’d nearly had a heart attack when Claire stumbled back on legs that looked as if they’d gone to jelly beneath her, her features slipping from that irritatingly controlled mask she’d been giving him to lax. Through reflex alone, he’d caught her against him before the reality of what was happening registered in his brain. And then she’d been in his arms and his blood stopped cold in his veins.

      He’d been there before. Helpless. A bystander as the woman who’d been his wife bled from the body in his arms.

      But that wasn’t what was happening now. Claire hadn’t eaten. When he thought about it, she hadn’t slept either. She’d been a workhorse for that gallery of hers, keeping pace with him through their entire day of travel. But then, not only had he eaten, he was also accustomed to pushing through more hours than these. Did it on a regular basis.

      What Claire was used to, he had no idea.

      He should have paid more attention on the flight.

      Only, every time he’d looked too closely at her, he found himself wanting to reach out and touch. To test the texture of her skin. See what she felt like again.

      Well, he’d had his chance. He’d had her in his arms and now he knew. She felt good. So good that when she’d regained her senses and he should have let her go, he’d held on. Stealing those extra seconds of contact—

      Shaking loose the fists balled at his sides, he held them out, assessing their steadiness. Swore and shook them again before wrenching open the door to the Sub-Zero.

      No more touching. That was for damn sure.

      A minute later he was back in the guest suite twisting the cap free from a sports drink and thrusting it into Claire’s hand. “First this.”

      “Thank you.” She turned the bottle in her hands, scanning the label before bringing it to her lips to drink. Several swallows later she rested the bottle against her knee and accepted the energy bar he’d opened.

      He watched her eat. Followed each dainty bite until the pink tip of her tongue swept across the swell of her bottom lip to capture a stray crumb … And then he looked away. Willed the tightening in his groin to cease, calling up memories of the vegetable drawer in his college apartment as a last but amazingly effective resort.

      “Feeling better?” he asked, tracking the empty stretch of damp packed sand to where it curved off into the cove. He needed to run. To push past his endurance and find that state of grace where the tether between mind and body stretched taut and thin. Where the world reordered in his head. And the tension twisting around his every nerve slipped loose.

      “Yes … Just embarrassed more than anything.”

      He turned back to her. The color had returned to her cheeks and her eyes were clear and alert. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”

      “No. Not at all.”

      That was a relief to hear, but at the same time, what if it was something more serious than a nosedive in blood sugar? Or what if she wasn’t being straight with him?

      He didn’t know anything about her anymore.

      Catching her chin between finger and thumb, he tipped her face to his, searching for signs of wear. Maybe a longer-term hunger or extreme fatigue. Anything to suggest things weren’t as she’d said.