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“You should.”
Her eyes narrow. “I hate you.”
“You say that, but I don’t think you really hate me. You hate that I hurt you, but more than that, you hate that even after everything, you still want me, want us.”
“I’m not talking about us. There is no us.”
“Sure.” I agree, just to move on.
She can think whatever she wants, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. Sometimes the illusion is all the other person needs. The illusion of freedom, of being in control. Bel will always be free, but never of me.
“So do you still want me to help or what?” she questions, annoyance lacing her tone.
“I thought you were going to let me bleed out?” I cock a brow at her.
She rolls her pretty eyes. “I should, but even Sebastian would be upset about that, I think.”
I step out of her way and gesture for her to enter the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, she abandons the coat and walks to the double sink to wash her hands. "I wouldn't have thought this place would be so clean.”
Her judgment causes me to chuckle. "Yeah, well, my housekeeper is pretty good at her job. How else would a group of twenty something year old men survive?”
This earns me a smile, and it's like watching the sunrise for the first time. I can't help but smile back. The moment she notices, though, it all crumbles to pieces, and the rays of sunshine disappear, leaving me in complete darkness.
I grab some of the first aid stuff from under the bathroom sink and arrange them on the counter. Alcohol. Bandages. Medical-grade glue. When you get your ass kicked regularly, some of these things become a part of your daily life.
She eyes them each individually and then drags her gaze back to me."We should probably get you cleaned up first."
Dirt and leaves cling to my jeans, and sticky blood coats my skin. "Good idea."
I pop the button on my jeans and grin as she skitters back, bumping into the counter. Like I wasn’t just in her ass, fucking her until she saw stars. In seconds, I’m naked, and her eyes are on my blood-coated cock.
“If I’m cleaning up, then you should too. The water is nice and hot, and the shower is big enough for ten people.”
I can see her mentally weighing her options, her pearly white teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Maybe realizing how unreasonable she’s being to allow me to fuck her but not shower with her, she starts stripping out of her clothing. If she wants to keep distance between us, I’m going to keep knocking down those walls one by one until she can face the truth. That I want her and she will be mine.
I watch as she strips because I’m no gentleman, and I continue watching even when she cocks an eyebrow at me, challenging me.
Once we’re both naked, I reach for her and ease the elastic from her hair and fluff out the strands, taking my time to feel the heft of her hair and memorize the scent of shampoo wafting off her mane.
Then I pluck her glasses off her face and set them on the counter.
“This means nothing,” she murmurs.
I pick her up and carry her into the shower, stopping right under the hot spray. Her tiny body shudders in my arms as she adjusts to the water, and I slowly lower her to her feet.
"How is that?"
She nods, shoving the water off her face. "It's good. Thank you."
When she reaches for the shampoo, I bat her hand away gently and lather her up myself. She gives me a little smile, and only when she's clean do I let her do the same for me. It's a revelation...caring for someone else. She treats me just as tenderly as I treat her, carefully cleaning around each of my wounds. There’s nothing sexual about it, more sensual and emotional, but it’s the first time I’ve experienced it, and I want to do it again and again. Once we’re all rinsed and clean, we exit the shower, and I gently dry her skin until she's warm and cozy.
Then comes the part I’m a semi-professional at: gluing and bandaging myself up. Bel helps by handing me each item and helping me clean up and toss all the wrappers out. Then I carry her over to the bed, hit the remote for the lights and fireplace, and climb up onto the mattress. I circle her waist with my arm, tucking her into my chest. Facing me, she stares up at me, a mixture of satisfaction and wariness in her eyes. “I guess I’m an idiot tonight because I’m too tired to hate you right now.”
Gently, I stroke her hair, the music from the party downstairs a low hum that becomes background noise. I stare into her sparkling green eyes, my chest tight, and I’m overcome with emotions that I’ve never felt before. I can’t lose Bel. I can’t. I won’t let my dad take anything else from me. I brush a piece of wet hair off her temple. "You're so beautiful, Maybel."
She gulps and shakes her head. "So are you."
A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and I catch it, flicking it away. "What's wrong?"
