Page 22 of Imperfect Skin

“Sure thing, little Mouse. You tell me what you need, and I’ll grab them.” Cal stood and came behind me, helping me to my feet. I was too tired and emotionally drained to do more than lean into him when he gently wrapped an arm around my waist. The soft kiss to my forehead was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

I couldn’t understand why he was being so nice to me. He’d seen what I’d let Ziggy do. He had to know I’d gone with Ziggy willingly.

“Hey,” Cal said softly. His fingers gently tipped my face to look at his. I dropped my eyes as shame and embarrassment filled me.

“No, little Mouse. Look at me.” There was that warm, comforting tone he’d used on me all night, ever since he’d stormed in and punched Ziggy square in the face.

Wait. He’d punched Ziggy—to defend me.

“You punched Ziggy!” I gasped, earning a warm chuckle from Cal.

Jesus, he must think I’d gotten a head injury with the dumb statements I seemed prone to tonight.

“I wanted to head-butt the little fucker, but it was easier to just punch him. He would have gotten a damn sight worse if I wasn’t hell bent on getting you out of there,” Cal’s voice was a deep growl against the top of my head.

Tears of gratitude threatened to spill over, and I wiped them away hastily. “You have to stop being like this.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know if I can cope with you being nice to me after everything that happened tonight. I don’t deserve it.”

“Boy, if you hadn’t already been through hell and back, I’d put you over my damn knee and spank this nonsense out of your head. You didn’t deserve one bit of what happened to you tonight. That little fucker abused your trust. He had no right to do what he did to you. No Dom worth his straps would allow that.”

“But what if I wanted that?” I shook my head, my words muddled. “I mean, not like that, but to hurt.” I was tired and in pain, and that was the only reason I was being so open with Cal. It had nothing to do with the proximity of our bodies or the way he held my face in his hand.

“We’re going to have a proper talk, yeah? But not tonight when you’re hurting and your head is all fucked up. But I will tell you this. What you want isn’t wrong. I understand it better than you realise. I think that there is something deeper you need too, but we’ll get to that. For now, let’s get you to bed and I’ll go find your pyjamas.”

“Yeah, and Oscar.”

“Who or what is Oscar?” Callum led me slowly up the stairs towards his bedroom. He led me through to his bed, helping me sit on the edge.

“You’ll see. He’s under my pillow.” I fought the blush that I could feel trying to crawl up my chest and cheeks.

Callum didn’t say anything, but the way his brow lifted spoke volumes.

With Callum gone for a minute, I was able to get my bearings. I’d never been inside Callum’s room in all the months I’d lived here. With its position in the back corner of the house it had dual aspect windows looking out onto the garden and moors. A tall, old-fashioned floor lamp gave off a warm glow. Off to one side was the door to the small ensuite, and on the other wall stood a large, solid wood dresser and wardrobe. The dark, heavy wood of the furniture made the room feel warm and safe. Almost like what I imagined Bilbo Baggins’s room would feel like—safe and snug.

There were photos of Alice from all ages and photos of Cal and his parents, even one of the group of us out the front of Viking Ink. The photo was a few years old. I barely had any tattoos, and my face was clean-shaven. Callum looked the same though, stern but kind, and sexy as hell. Even in pain, I could still admire the man. I could have one foot in the grave and still manage to wax poetic on how sexy I found him.

I traced my fingers along the patchwork pattern on the thick duvet that covered the bed. The bed itself was massive. The headboard and footboard were made from thick wrought iron and brass, and I cringed at the thought of getting blood on Cal’s clean, baby-blue linens. Maybe I should just go crash in my bed. I was only across the hall and if I needed Cal, he’d hear if I called out for help.

I thought about moving, I really did—for a grand total of two minutes. But Cal’s mattress felt so good under me, and I could only imagine how good it would feel to stretch out on it. Having Callum sleeping alongside me would be a definite bonus. I reached out and grabbed one of Callum’s pillows and lifted it to my face. It smelled of his aftershave and all those warm comforting scents that were so ingrained in me when I thought of him.

Yeah, I was doing a stellar job of banishing those pesky, intrusive thoughts about Cal, wasn’t I?

Jesus, what was I doing? Sitting half naked, bruised and bloody, on the bed of the man of my dreams, second-guessing every decision I’d made in my life. The exception being the day I accepted Cal’s offer to move in with him and Alice. That, I could safely say, had been one of my smarter moments.

The sound of footsteps had me looking up and laughter bubbled out of me when I saw my bright green monstrosity of a teddy bear peer around the door. Callum was smiling, holding Oscar and a pair of my flannel PJ pants along with another full bottle of water. He placed the water on the bedside table before turning and smiling at me, holding out Oscar.

“First things first. I just grabbed the pants as I didn’t think you’d want a T-shirt on. Now, the important question.” Cal gave Oscar a quizzical look before passing him to me. “Who is this guy?”

I gently took Oscar from Cal’s hand and ran my fingers over his messy, green fur. I could feel the stitch marks, each one handsewn by my mum. I liked to imagine when I held him to my face that I could still smell that damn perfume she loved—Sunflowers, she’d called it. All I knew was it made Simon sneeze like crazy when she wore it. I’d laughed my arse off each time. Simon sneezing was not what anyone would expect from a giant like him. It was more like a tiny kitten sneeze, but with a lot of build-up, then just a choo sound. I rubbed my chest, the memories stirring the old hurt. But I didn’t want to forget about them. I wanted to remember the good times before the accident.

I continued to brush my nose against Oscar’s fur. Holding him settled something inside of me, nearly as much as Callum’s presence. “He’s Oscar. Mum made him for me when I was little.” I saw the smirk on Cal’s face and shook my head. “No height jokes!”

Callum shook his head trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile. “I didn’t say anything, little Mouse.”

That was new. He’d called me little Mouse a few times tonight. Cal, like everyone else, had always called me Mouse, but the added prefix made it feel somehow special between the two of us. It was a nice feeling. I was afraid if I made mention of it, or brought attention to the shift, he’d stop calling me it, and right now I needed to feel special—important to someone.

---