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The corner of his mouth pulls up into a tired smirk. “Probably?”
I pinch the skin at his waist.
He immediately sucks in a sharp hiss of breath, his muscles locking up.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” I jerk my hand back.
Sumner starts laughing, which immediately turns into him wincing and grabbing his ribs, which somehow only makes him laugh harder.
“That is not funny,” I scold him, though I can feel my own mouth wanting to turn up into a grin.
“It kind of is.”
“You’re an idiot.”
I shake my head and point a thumb over my shoulder toward the steaming shower stall. “Get your naked ass in the water before I accidentally assault you somewhere else.”
He does what I say, and I pull my clothes off and follow him in.
Sumner stands beneath the warm water while I work shampoo over his hair, my fingertips moving carefully around the marks on his skin so I don’t hurt him.
His eyes close, and he lets out a sigh that sounds like it came from the very bottom of his soul.
The muscles in his shoulders gradually loosen bit by bit as I scrape my nails lightly over his scalp and then switch to massaging the suds in.
I’ve seen this man relaxed before. I’ve watched him sleep. I’ve had him sprawled naked across my bed after I rode every coherent thought out of his head.
But this is different.
He’s letting go because he knows he can trust that I’ve got him. It’s a powerful feeling, one I want to experience again and again.
I rinse the suds away and wash the sweat from his back. Then I brush my lips across every single bruise and mark I can find, needing to do anything I can to relieve even the tiniest bit of his pain.
By the time we’re done and I get the water turned off, he’s fading fast. He doesn’t fight me when I towel him off, minus his legs because no way can I reach, and lead him into the bedroom.
I hand him clean boxers, and once he’s dressed, I get him settled against the pillows.
Then I waddle out to the kitchen and heat up some leftover chicken and rice from last night’s dinner. I pop it onto a tray with some lemonade and a cookie and call it good.
His eyes are only half open as he eats, and when he’s finished, he sinks back into the bed.
“Sleep, Maverick,” I say, taking the empty tray from his lap and setting it on the nightstand. Before I can pull away, Sumner slides his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me down to press a sweet kiss to my forehead then my lips.
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs, his voice a little slurred and fading fast.
By the time I turn off the lamp and crawl under the covers with him, he’s starting to fade.
He settles flat on his back, since his battered ribs clearly aren’t interested in any other position, and I carefully curl onto my side next to him.
His hand finds my stomach within seconds, and I cover it with mine, lacing our fingers together. I love how much he always needs to be touching me, like he craves me.
I’ve never really needed outside validation, but not gonna lie, it feels good to know how much this man wants me.
It only takes seconds for him to lose the battle with sleep as his eyes fall closed. I watch the tight lines of pain and exhaustion around his eyes and mouth finally soften as his breathing goes deep and even.
He’s out cold.
I stay awake just a little longer, watching him in the dark and listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. There was a point over the last twenty-four hours I didn’t know if I’d ever hear this again, and right now I just want to soak it in.
