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“You look like you’ve been shot and walked around with a bullet still in your thigh, that’s how you look,” she muttered as she stepped into the shower stall and turned on the water.
Then she turned to me and our gazes connected in the reflection.
A bullet I'd carried around to save her.
We didn’t need the words to hear the truth. There was that flicker of pain in her eyes once more. “I wish you'd told me.”
“I don’t.”
The muscles of her jaw flexed and that fire in her eyes burned brighter. Fuck, she was pretty when she was angry. A nod of her head, and she exhaled hard and slow. “You’re starting to learn, little mouse.”
There was a hint of a smile, just a little one. At least she'd kept her sense of humor. Steam drifted from the shower, making me take a step forward.
“Let me help.” She moved closer and dropped to her knees, and I couldn't help but feel fucking tuned on. The way she reached up, grabbed my boxers, and tugged them down, was hot as hell.
I reached up, yanked my shirt over my head, and dropped it to the floor as she rose. Her breath caught and a moan tore free. “Tobias…” she whispered.
I didn’t stop, just limped forward. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
But I caught the movement before the faint brush of her fingers on my back. “This doesn’t hurt?”
A throb came at her touch, low, aching, hitting all the trigger points. I swallowed and shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.
But she knew. “I’m helping you.”
That throb seemed to travel upwards and lodge in the back of my throat. I let her step into the stall with me, let her run her fingers along my shoulders as I turned and faced her. Her wide eyes took in every scratch and every mark. I was a mess…I knew that, but it was the kind of hurt I’d feel a thousand times over for her. Didn’t she know that by now?
She stepped out, grabbed a clean washcloth from the vanity, and stepped back in, soaking it before she grabbed the soap. Silence filled the space. The heat thrummed against my shoulders and her hands lulled me into a sense of comfort I hadn’t felt in a while…not since they took her.
Not since they—
Sodden strands of hair stuck to the side of her face. I brushed them away as she ran the cloth over my chest and under my arms, nearing the deep bruising over my ribs. “This has to hurt,” she whispered.
“Not when I’m looking at you.”
Her cheeks blushed before she looked away.
“You can look, Ryth.” My voice turned husky. “You can touch, you can do anything you want with me.”
Fuck if that wasn’t too close to the goddamn truth.
Anything she wanted.
Fuck me.
Hit me.
Hate me…
Just neverleaveme. Not again. Not ever again…
“Head back,” she demanded, squeezing a clump of shampoo into her palm, a little surer of herself now.
I smiled and did as she commanded, letting the heat sluice through my clipped hair. She had to stretch, her body grazing mine as she rose on her toes and wobbled. It was instinct to grab her, but fucking hunger to pull her against me.
I grew hard with the friction. Christ, I wanted to be inside her, to feel the stretch her pretty little pussy gave as she adjusted. The memory of the diner rose, her hands braced against the sink, me fucking nailing her from behind.
Still, it wasn’t enough.
