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“Here, let me see.” He takes my hand, his expression dark as he begins to work on stopping the flow of blood.
Seeing him like this is almost comical, and I laugh. “Why are you freaking out? I’m sure you see blood all the time in your line of work.” It’s meant to be funny, but he doesn’t seem to think so.
He pauses in his ministrations and lifts his hardened gaze to mine. “Never yours. I’d never spill yours.”
In spite of everything that’s happened between us, I suddenly have the urge to ease the distress evident in his eyes. “You didn’t. It was an accident.”
“One I caused. I left those knives there to tease you.” He shakes his head as he focuses back on my finger.
“You knew I’d be tempted to use them on you.”
“I also knew you wouldn’t.”
“But what if I had?” I ask. “What if you don’t know me as well as you think you do? People change.”
“Us… We don’t change. What we share doesn’t change. No matter what happens, we will always belong together. And that’s a little hard to do if we’re dead.” He smiles now, though it still doesn’t hold his usual devilish flare. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Do you mean now or when you left me?”
“Both.” He finishes wrapping the wound. “Both were unintentional.”
“Yet I bled both times.”
He brings my finger to his lips and gives it a kiss. “And both times, I made up for it. Come to bed, wife.” He tugs me to the bedroom and lies down, patting the spot beside him. “I don’t bite.”
“You do.”
His grin returns full force. “Only when you beg me to. Come on, you need sleep.”
Reluctantly, I get in, lying as far from him on the mattress as I can. He chuckles as he turns off the lamp on the nightstand.
Within minutes, he’s fast asleep, his breathing deep. Unfortunately for me, it takes me much longer to doze off, especially when he reaches for me and pulls me tightly against him. I do my best to push away, but his arms wrap harder around me. Damn him. Even in sleep, he’s too strong.
For a moment, I consider that perhaps this isn’t too bad. That is, until he shifts and the bulge between his legs presses against my hip.
He was wrong. I’m not wearing enough clothes for the two of us. The spaghetti strap shirt and shorts could never be enough. Hell, I could be wearing a suit of armor and it wouldn’t be enough to keep the heat of his body from burning through.
Groaning, I shut my eyes against the memories that flood my mind. Visions of stolen kisses and forbidden touches. Of a fire that burned white-hot, and I let it consume me, not caring about the consequences. Not caring that one day, he’d make me bleed in a way no one else ever could.
It’s going to be a long night.
