Page 106 of Tied Over

He was there quickly, gently extricating me from the sling I was already coming to hate. The brace was okay; the sling immobilized me more.

“You hate the sling,” he said, smiling.

“How can you tell?” I teased irritably.

“Well, the sling is there to let you rest the limb, right? Otherwise, it would just hang at your side.”

“Did the doctor say I had to use it for the whole month?”

“No, only the brace is mandatory, but let’s keep it for at least a full week.”

But if I said I didn’t need it—

“You’re thinking, why is he not just listening to me?”

I met his gaze.

“It’s the same with you doing my thinking for me where being a marshal is concerned.”

“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “I promise that isn’t what I was trying to do.”

“I know, but still,” he prodded me, leaning down close. “I know what’s best for me.”

“Yes,” I agreed, shutting the door forever on my making assumptions about his career and future. If I was asked, I would give my opinion, but really, no one liked someone else doing their thinking for them. Bodhi had always particularly hated that. It was why he and his family—his parents and his two siblings—were estranged. They all thought he should have taken another road with both his career and his sexuality. And I understood them being scared about him being a marshal or thinking it wasn’t what they wanted for him, but who he wanted to sleep with was wired in his DNA, it was not a choice he’d made. But being like them, in any way, thinking I knew best, was not something I wanted between us. I would never put another roadblock between us when now, finally, there were none. “Forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven,” he said, and I saw how warm his eyes were as he looked at me. “Because you know me better than anyone, and I know, if I just told you, that you’d listen.”

“It’s true. I promise.”

His grin was suddenly mischievous, and my heart flipped over. “And for my part, we can leave this sling off the rest of today, and you can tell me if you want to put it back on in the morning. Yes?”

“Yes.”

He crossed his arms then, looking down at me. “There’s something else.”

It was really something how he could read micro expressions on my face, subtle nuances no one else could pick up.

“Tell me,” he demanded, but it was gentle, easy.

“I want to tell you that I’m rested, and while you have to be careful of my arm, I promise you, I won’t break.”

“I see.”

“You won’t hurt me,” I reiterated.

“You’re making that very clear.”

“I am.”

“Because?”

“I’ve known you nearly six years,” I said.

He nodded.

“And first it was me wanting you, and then later you wanting me, but we were never lined up. Never on the same page.”

“Until now,” he teased me, arching an eyebrow.