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Like my hips had a mind of their own, they tilted back and pressed my ass into his thighs. "Samara," he groaned on an agonized gasp. His hand returned to washing me quickly and drew away to rinse the soap off me. Suddenly fighting back tears, I caved to the tiredness seeping into my bones and let it wash away the pain.
The rejection.
The water turned off, and he stepped out to grab the towel and dry me off. I let him guide me into the bedroom in a daze, barely cooperating when he slipped one of his shirts on over my head. A minute later he tucked me into bed, and only a few moments passed before he crawled in behind me and wrapped me up in his arms.
It was the fastest I'd fallen asleep since the night Connor had assaulted me.
And for the moment, sleep was all that mattered.
Eleven
Samara
Sunshine peeked through the windows where the curtains didn't close. I groaned, feeling the vibrations of it in my throat like an open wound. The moment my eyes opened, I remembered where I was. Remembered the night before.
Drawing myself up to sit, I took in the space that was Lino's bedroom. Having never been in it before, never having a cause for it since he'd bought the house after we were too adult to cuddle in our sleep without consequences, I didn't know what to expect.
It was obvious he hadn't designed it alone. The walls were painted a dark blue-grey, masculine and dominant. Though there was little clutter, an intricate shelving unit seemed to be crafted into the wall to my right. Nightstands sat to either side of the bed, and a sitting area with leather arm chairs was set up over by the biggest window. I could picture him sitting there and looking out as he drank his morning coffee, and the thought brought a smile to my face.
But Lino was nowhere to be found. He'd promised not to leave me, hadn't he? The actual conversation from the night before seemed fuzzy, and I thought back to the painkillers Linda had given me. Coupled with the soreness in my body, it was a wonder I remembered anything.
And I remembered certain sensations in vivid color.
Grabbing my glasses off the nightstand where Lino must have put them after I'd fallen asleep, I stood and made my way to the bathroom slowly and went about my business. Swiping toothpaste onto my finger, I at least got rid of some of the grimy feeling I'd woken up with. I was making my way back to the bed, trying to think of an alternative to walking downstairs in a t-shirt with no underwear on, when the door swung open and Lino walked in. Dressed casually in his favorite sweatpants and shirtless, I fought the urge to drool over the grooved abs I hadn't wanted to notice the night prior. "What are you doing out of bed?" he asked, his brow furrowing in that frustrated way of his. Clutched in his hand at his side, the purple case of my phone was vibrant in contrast to his grey sweats.
“Is that my phone?” My brow furrowed as I looked up at him in confusion.
He shrugged, slipping it into the pocket of his pants unapologetically. “What are you doing out of bed?” he repeated.
"I need clothes. Did you put my suitcase in a guest room?" I asked, and he shook his head at me like I was ridiculous. "I don't have underwear on, Lino."
"Oh, believe me. I'm aware. Get in bed and I'll grab you something. Underwear and leggings?"
"You are not about to go rummaging through my clothes," I argued, taking a step toward him.
"Watch me," he hissed, some of the anger I knew must have been lurking under the surface during our moments of peace last night coming out to play. "Get in bed or so help me I will put you there myself."
With his harsh words, something that Lino rarely showed me, I climbed into the bed carefully and shot him a glare. “Happy?”
He huffed a humorous laugh and turned to a door that opened into his closet. He was back quickly with a pair of underwear and leggings, helping me glide them up my legs to my mortification. "Lino, you don't need to—"
"Hush, Samara. I'm taking care of you. Deal with it."
"I'm injured, not dead. I can put my own fucking underwear on, thank you," I hissed, slapping his hands away when he grasped me around the ass and pulled me to stand so he could pull them up the rest of the way.
Kneeling at my feet, he looked up at me. Beneath the anger simmering on his face, I could see the anguish. "Did you look at them?"
I shook my head, not needing to ask to know that he meant the bruises. I could feel them pulsing just under my skin with an ache that couldn't be ignored, but I would never a
dmit that to Lino. Not when he seemed so intent on spoon feeding me for the next three years. Before I knew it, he lifted me off the floor and into his arms. Wrapping my legs around his waist for stability, I clung to him. With everything less hazy than before, being carried felt more intense. Strange and erotic all at once, but the thunderous look on his face quelled any rising desire in me. When he went in the open bathroom door and stopped in front of the mirror, I unwound my legs from him, and he dropped me slowly until my feet touched the floor.
"Look at them." He grunted the words, voice deepening in the way I knew there'd be no arguing with. I turned away from him to face the mirror, letting my eyes settle on the deep purple marks covering my throat. When I met his eyes in the mirror, they were wild with fury. “That is more than a simple injury. He almost killed you,” he growled.
"I'm right here, Lino," I whispered, my heart clenching as his eyes closed and he nodded, pressing his lips to my hair as if he needed the contact to know that I was real. When I turned to face him, he lifted me into his arms again and I didn't bother to protest.
"Has he hurt you before?" he asked as soon as he settled me onto the bed and sat next to me. I didn't want to look at him, wanting to keep taking the coward's way out, but I also knew that I owed him an explanation.
"Not like this," I whispered, and I knew it was the wrong thing to say when his face twisted in fury again. "It was always little things. Grabbing me, slapping me once or twice. Nothing big enough to make me think he was capable of this." Even as I said the words, they felt like a lie, but I wasn't ready to get into the night that I'd told Connor I wanted a divorce.
