Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
"That's my line," I told his chest, turning my face slightly to press a kiss into the muscle beneath me.
"This is my life, Rey. I, to an extent, expect crazy shit to happen from time to time. This isn't your life. You weren't prepared for this. I want to know how you're holding up."
That was valid.
And sweet.
Considering he was likely still in a world of pain.
"I'm... I don't think I have fully processed it yet," I admitted. "It was just one crazy thing to another."
"I'm sorry," he said, fingers digging into my hip a bit with the words.
"This isn't your fault."
"Shouldn't have dragged you into this world."
His voice was doing it again. Going guarded. Cool.
And the reality hit me hard, making the desire leave my body in a rush.
He was going to push me away.
I knew it like I knew the sun was going to rise tomorrow, no matter how dark this night felt.
Had I been given a few minutes alone to really think, I guess I would have seen that coming.
"I believe I pushed myself into it," I objected, turning my head up to look at his tortured face.
"Can't have you getting hurt on my watch," he said, shaking his head sadly. "I won't be able to handle any more shit like that on my conscience."
My gaze had just flicked down for a second, just trying not to let him see how much it hurt me that he hurt so much. But as my eyes went to lift again, they saw something they had somehow missed time and time again.
A scar.
Across his throat.
And it was clean and smooth.
Like a knife had done it.
What the hell had he been through?
"Nothing is going to happen to me," I told him, trying to make my voice more sure than I maybe felt. You never really did know. But I was willing to put my faith to rest in optimism.
"You don't know that."
"I am in a windowless, cement building surrounded by some paramilitary people, and locked up with outlaw bikers, Reeve. I am pretty sure I am as safe as a person can be right now."
"Rey..."
"Are you done?" I asked, cutting him off.
"Done?" he asked, brows furrowing.
"Trying to delay my ministrations," I specified, moving back a step even though everything in me wanted to stay as close as I could to him.
"You seriously think I would try to delay your hands on me, babe?" he asked, smile a mix of boyish and sexy, a really heady mix, let me tell ya.
"Well then, here are some pants," I told him, handing them to him, and moving back over toward the sink cabinet to make my mixes.
It took actual effort not to look in the mirror and watch him as he somehow struggled into the pants. I knew I should have helped him with that, but to be perfectly honest, I just didn't think my poor, untouched body could take any more teasing tonight.
"You look good in my shirt," he told me, closer than I expected, right behind me actually, his breath warm on the side of my head. "It's going to be fucking torture to have you in my bed without touching you."
So I was going to be in his bed.
I hadn't been sure.
I mean, I hoped.
But I wasn't sure if that was where he was going to keep me.
"You can touch me," I offered, raising my gaze to meet his in the mirror, his light eyes making my insides feel warm and liquid.
"Not the way I want," he objected, eyes getting hungry.
"I would want it any way," I told him, watching as he needed to take a deep breath at that information.
His lips pressed into my hair, his eyes closing for a long second before he spoke. "You're not gonna want to be anywhere near me once that shit gets smeared all over me," he informed me, looking down over my shoulder at my herbs and flowers that, admittedly, did reek to high heaven.
"Alright, come on, sit down. Let me get started," I said, wanting to get him slathered up and then into bed. Sleep, as it was known, was always the best healer. Between a good night and the salves, he would be feeling a lot better in the morning.
Reeve sat, letting me get to work, only making the occasional curse or grunt or complaint about the smell or burning.
"Alright. That should do it for now," I told him with a nod.
"You mean now that half my body is covered in slime?" he asked, giving me a small smile. He wouldn't let me treat his lip, telling me he'd rather get a raging fucking infection than taste that shit.
"Alright, let's get you into bed. I will go fetch those pills you left in the other room."
"You're gonna let me have Western medicine?" he asked, faking shock, teasing me.