Page 9 of Bear with Me

“I put my shirt on you,” Brock said as he entered the bathroom and kept the arm under her buttocks while he used his other hand to lift the lid on the toilet. He set her down, catching his shirt and tugging it out of the way, then stood there with a hand at her waist, steadying her.

“Go away.”

“You can barely sit upright,” he said softly. “Besides, it’s nothing I haven’t—”

She managed to slap a hand over his mouth. “Don’t finish that sentence if you ever want to see me naked again.”

She shook her head. She hadn’t meant to say that.

“Oh, I plan to do more than see you, little mate,” he informed her with a heated look.

“Go away, Brock.”

He took precious seconds to stand and move toward the door.

“I’m right outside. Holler if you need me.”

She waved him off, waiting for the snick of the door closing before she released her bladder. She knew he heard her, but that was different from him standing there and watching her. She grabbed the cup he’d set on the counter and used it before the stream ended. She took a few extra minutes to eye the shower, wondering if she’d have enough time to get in before Brock realized what she was doing.

“No shower,” Jensen called through the door, making her huff in resignation.

The door clicked.

“Don’t open the door!” she yelled.

“Jemma,” Brock growled.

“Give me a few damn minutes.”

She finally forced herself to stand and shuffled to the sink. She was weak, and she hated it. Five days lying in a bed hadn’t done her any favors. Then she saw her reflection in the mirror. Exhaustion clung to her face as if she hadn’t spent the last week asleep. She had dark circles under her eyes, making the blue seem dull. Her normally thick, black curls hung in a disheveled mess around her. She turned on the water and took her time washing her hands then her face. She found a washcloth in one of the drawers and cleaned a few other places as quickly as she could. Finally, she used her finger to clean her teeth, rinsing her mouth with water again and again.

This time, when the door pushed open, she didn’t say anything. She was ready for it and the man who filled the doorway. Still, she flushed when he scooped her up again. A rumble sounded in his chest as he carried her back to the bed and placed her gently on it before tugging the cover up over her chest. She jerked it back down to her waist with a glare.

“I’ll get you another shirt.”

His eyes were heated, and when he stood, his bulge was thicker than before. She glanced down at herself and realized she’d splashed water on the shirt she wore and now her nipples were fairly visible through the wet material. She shook her head. Why did she care? Brock didn’t get to suddenly play the attentive suitor. That wasn’t who they were. The faster she remembered that, the less likely she was to be hurt in the end. Besides, she was leaving. It would be better for everyone.

“Maybe, you can grab clothes for me while Jensen does his exam,” she suggested. “My clothes, please.”

“Something loose,” Jensen added. “Nothing that might constrict where she was stabbed.”

Brock grumbled again, but she ignored him.

“Ready?” Jensen moved toward her.

“As soon as he leaves.”

“Jemma,” Brock growled.

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what this change is all about, but no. I’m awake now. I decide what happens from this point on.”

His face blanched, and he looked as if he’d been punched.

“I’d never take advantage of you,” he whispered.

“I’m not saying you did,” she relented. “I need a few moments to get my feet underneath me. Please, Brock. Get my clothes. Maybe, something to eat? I’m obviously not going anywhere right now.”

He looked as if he might argue, but Jensen stepped in.

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