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He helps me inside the cabin. “Yeah. Nothing a few bandages and rest won’t heal.”
I study him as he slowly strips me of my cut and T-shirt. When he sees the blood-soaked gauze wrapped around my bicep, he gasps. “What happened?”
“I got shot.”
His eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “What the hell, Mustang? Why aren’t you in the hospital?”
“It’s just a graze.” Even though it burns like fuck, I pull him to me. “I’m fine. I’m also high as shit from the pain meds. Will you take my pants off so I can crash?”
This time when he looks at me, I spot a small smile. “You sure this isn’t a ploy to get me on my knees?”
“Babe, I always want you on your knees. But this time, I really do need help.”
He unfastens my belt buckle, then pops the button on my jeans and unzips them. “Am I going to find any more blood?”
“Nah. Not in my pants, anyway. I got hit in the head with a pipe, so there’s a pretty good gash back there.”
He gasps, turning me around to inspect. “Fucking hell. Tell me what happened.”
“One of the new hires at the brothel failed to mention she was under the protection of a pimp, and he wasn’t too happy to lose his best earner.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. Showed up with some of his buddies and tried to get inside to take her back. It was a clusterfuck.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t get far?”
I smirk. “Nope.”
Jenson gets my pants down before pulling back the covers for me. After tucking me in, he climbs to the other side, facing me. Despite how shitty the night was, it’s awesome to know it’s ending like this. In bed with my man.
“I realized something tonight,” I say.
“What’s that?” He pushes a stray lock of hair off my forehead.
I pin him with my gaze, trying to convey everything on my mind. But it needs to be said out loud. He deserves it.
“I love you.”
His eyes soften, and he rests his palm on my cheek. “I love you too.”
“Good. Glad that’s settled.” I draw him in closer to kiss him.
His lips are soft, but my kiss isn’t. To me, love is a force. If it doesn’t hurt a little, are you even in it? And I’m not just talking about rough touches and a slap on the ass. I’m talking about being brutally honest about the hard stuff and accepting the response you get. Even when it hurts.
I’m lucky that the first time I’ve ever let someone in, it happened to be the person I was meant to share my life with. It doesn’t make it any less scary, but there is a level of comfort there.
I pull away before things get too heated, and I won’t be able to hold myself back. I’m only good to my club if I’m healthy and able-bodied. That means I’m taking Bones’ orders seriously.
“This is the worst you’ve ever seen me,” I say, wanting to make sure he’s okay.
“Yeah.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“I’m scared every time you leave the compound, but I also trust you to do whatever it takes to come home in one piece.”
See what I mean? He’s all in too.
