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Oh my God.
His face. The blood. So much blood. There isn’t enough light out here to tell where the source of it is. His clothes are torn and blood-stained. He looks like he was dragged down a gravel road from the back of a truck.
“Get the door.”
I tear my eyes from TJ’s red-streaked face and sprint to the door. Tanner carries him up the stairs to his apartment while I grab the first-aid kit from his office.
Tanner’s propping him up against the sink in the bathroom when I return. “Can you stand, buddy?”
TJ groans. “I’m fine.” He sways but remains upright without Tanner’s help. “Need to sleep this off.”
Illuminated under the bathroom bulbs, TJ’s face glistens like red stained glass. The eye that was swollen shut the other day looks even worse, puffier, with fresh bruises. The other eye is covered in blood from a cut above his brow. The gash on his top lip reopened, lip swollen to double its size.
My heart thrashes wildly against my chest. TJ’s hurt, and it goes so much deeper than what I can see. His terrorizing mental pain caused him to seek out physical pain. Sure, he got jumped, but I know part of him welcomes this—thinks he deserves it.
Will I ever be able to show him that he doesn’t?
“The last thing you need to do is sleep,” I say.
TJ lifts his chin, eyelids straining to peel open at the sound of my voice. “Carla.” He reaches a dirty hand out, brushing his fingertips against my cheek. “My Carla.”
Goosebumps break out across my skin, heat sizzling wherever he touches. Even beaten to a bloody pulp, the man is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I look up to meet Tanner’s questioning gaze. “I can get him cleaned up. I’ll stay with him tonight. But he might need to go to the hospital.”
“No hospital,” TJ murmurs, still caressing my face. “Just you.”
“Are you sure you can take care of him?” Tanner asks. “I can stay if you need me to help.”
“I’ve got this.”
Tanner nods. “Keep me updated.”
“I will.”
After a deep breath, I open the first-aid kit and line up everything I’ll need on the counter.
“You’re not going to put peroxide on me, are you?”
I arch an eyebrow. “The big, tough fighter is afraid of a little burning?”
TJ chuckles but then winces, clutching his ribs.
Sobering immediately, I gather the hem of his shirt in my hands and lift. Another gasp leaves me when I’m hit with the sight of the deep-purple marks along his ribcage. Tiny rocks stick to parts of his skin atop red scrapes.
The image of TJ on the ground assaults my mind. Curled up in a ball, taking hit after hit, kick after kick, alone and helpless. It’s almost too much to bear. Shaking it from my thoughts, I try to keep my focus on the task before me.
“Let’s get you in the shower.” The water will wash away the blood smears and dirt, and I’ll be able to assess the severity of his wounds. I tug TJ’s shirt over his head, careful not to rub the cotton against his face, and lean into the tub to turn the water on.
When I turn back around, TJ’s struggling to push his shorts down, barely able to bend at the waist. I help them down the rest of the way, sucking in a breath as I peel off his boxers. Now’s not the time for sexy thoughts, Carla. Especially not when TJ’s gazing down at me, wearing a smirk on his bruised lips.
Once he’s undressed, I wrap my arm around his waist and help him under the hot stream. I’m fully dressed but I don’t stop to think about it. I lather a washcloth with soap and rub it in soft circles around TJ’s shoulders and back.
“Turn around,” I say, and scrub the blood and dirt from his chest.
“Too good, Carla. You’re too good.” TJ mumbles the entire time I clean him, each word penetrating my heart like an arrow. His fingers brush the wet hair out of my eyes, and sweep down to my lips. “I want you so bad.”
I lift onto my toes, letting him occupy himself with touching my face, knowing this next part is going to hurt. I dab the washcloth around the cut on his forehead, cringing when he grunts and grinds his teeth together.
