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His eyes drift to the cut on my forehead. It throbs, the pain starting to cut through the numbness brought on by the rush of adrenaline. “You need to get that closed up as soon as you’re done here. No arguments.”
“Stitches?” I ask.
“No. Just a butterfly should work. She got you good, but not that good.”
“So, just patch me up here, then. Don’t make me go to a clinic tonight.”
Noah finally releases my shorts. His palm cups my side instead, a strong, heavy arm pressed against my back. I sigh softly and lean against him, burying my cheek in his shoulder.
“Don’t forget about the celebratory party tonight inyourhonour. You can’t show up with a half-cleaned cut because you didn’t want to go to the clinic,” Hunter says.
“Hunter,” I groan, unashamed to be acting stubborn. He’s not the one who just fought. “Please don’t push this. I’ll get it closed, but I’m not going to a clinic. I’m already going to this party even though I don’t want to, so please don’t push on this.”
He huffs a reply. “Fine. I’m not up to a fight tonight either. Just go get cleaned up, and I’ll have Marie come in and get you fixed up when you’re finished. Don’t miss this party, Tinsley. I’m serious.”
“I won’t. Fighter’s honour.” I press my hand to my chest. “Thank you!”
He flashes a quick look at the towering man beside me. Noah nods at him, and I roll my eyes at whatever they just silently agreed on. God, I’m surrounded by overprotective men. It’s a blessing and a curse.
“You two are ridiculous. How about you go have silent man talk outside and leave me to get cleaned up.” I clap and wave my hands at them when they continue to stand there. “Now.”
Noah tightens his gaze and stays right where he is while Hunter lets out a rough laugh and, with a single wave of his hand, leaves the room.
Once it’s just me and Noah, the room grows hot, like Hunter cranked the thermostat before disappearing.
I set my hands on my hips and meet his stare. “Well? I need to shower.”
“Then shower.” His voice is so chilled that it threatens to drop the temperature in the room back down.
He watches like a silent predator as I move for my gym bag. “Did you want me to shower with you in here?” I ask, doing my best to avoid looking at him.
“You can’t hide from us forever, Golden Girl. One taste isn’t enough for me,” he says slowly, each word spoken in a way that feels like a stroke of his tongue between my legs. Hot, desperate, dirty.
“I’m not hiding.”I definitely am.
He laughs darkly. “You are. I’ve let you.”
Glancing at him over my shoulder, I ask, “What are you wanting to talk about, then? Does Mr. Dark and Twisty want to talk about his feelings?”
I’m pushing him. Why can’t I stop doing that? Am I really such a glutton for punishment? Shit, I am.
I’m a punishment whore.
“Feelings,” he echoes, spitting the word as if it’s revolting. “I don’t want to talk about feelings. I want to stop pretending that you aren’t hiding from me. I want you to accept what’s happening with us.”
“I have. In case you forgot what happened an hour ago, you kissed me in front of my father, and I didn’t slap you. He’s not going to just forget about that.”
“It was time he knew that I’m not going anywhere. He’s been pushing me too far.”
“He’s known that for two decades, Noah.”
“Then he doesn’t care. I’m done with him throwing men at you and hoping they fucking stick. You’re not available for other men. Just.Me,” he growls.
Ignoring the heat that’s begun to build between my legs at his possessive words, I turn my back to him and grab my gym bag. My pulse kicks up as I drop it on the bench between us, fingering the zipper. It’s already half-open, my clothes hanging out through the opening. My brows knit together. I swear I zipped it when I changed before the fight.
“Have you been back here at all?” I ask Noah as I begin to unzip the bag the rest of the way. I’ve never been much for folding clothes when I pack, but I’ve never been this messy before. It looks like I balled everything up and shoved it inside in a hurry.Which I didn’t do.
“Don’t change the subject.”
