“Oh god,” I breathe.
“I know it’s a lot, sweetheart,” he says roughly. “I’m sorry. We’re going to talk about it in the meeting with my brothers so we can make a plan to end this bullshit once and for all.”
Skull leads me to his quarters, through the blood-stained hallways. Smoke lingers in the air with the a smell that feels like it could be death.
My mind is reeling as he unlaces his bruised, blood-stained fingers from mine to unlock and usher me inside his private space.
Silence hangs heavy as he takes off his cut and hangs it on the hook by the door. His arms are covered in angry, red scratches that make my heart squeeze.
“Can I get some antiseptic for your arms?”
He slowly looks at me. For a second there’s a flash of vulnerability in his gaze that I’ve never seen before.
“You don’t have to do that,” he replies in a hoarse voice. “You’ve been through hell today, and here you are worrying about me.”
No one worries about this man.
I saw it in his expression. Well, I’m going to fix that.
“It’s natural when you care about someone to want to take care of them.”
He loops an arm around my back and pulls me against his chest. The cotton of his T-shirt is damp from sweat and his muscles are warm and comforting. He smells like a man. A strong, protective, king-sized one that feels like home.
How bizarre.
I’ve never felt like this before.
When he buries his nose in my hair, he groans, making me wonder if he has the same feeling.
“Why don’t you get a shower,” I say, hugging his waist, pressing my cheek against his chest. “Afterward I’ll put some cream on all these scratches. Then we can get some sleep.”
My eyelids are already heavy.
“That sounds like the smart thing to do. But I don’t know if I’ll sleep while keeping one eye on the door tonight.”
I step back and take his hand. “Maybe you’ll feel more relaxed after the shower.”
He follows me into the bathroom, shedding his shirt along the way, revealing the deep contours of his muscles. His eyes are serious as he helps me out of my dress, and boots.
“When did this turn into a shower for two?”
“When I decided having you outside the shower is too far away from me.”
“Speaking of showers, I need some of my clothes,” I tell him. “I can’t keep wearing this dress.”
A half-grin tucks up one corner of his mouth. “There’s plenty of T-shirts in that closet that will make dresses for you.”
“Oh?” I ask, quirking a brow. “You want me in your shirts.”
“Every fucking day,” he growls as he drags me roughly against his naked body, both his hands around my waist.
When he drops his mouth to mine it’s the kind of kiss that knocks the wind out of you, and sets one thing straight—he’s taking what’s his.
I fumble for the shower’s knob, somehow getting the water to the right temperature while he devours me. My heart is in melt-down mode by the time he lifts me into the shower.
“No sex,” he grumbles, to my surprise. “Not tonight. I’ll be too rough.”
I soap his chest as I fake pout. “Are yousure?”
