Page 46 of The Irish Redemption

“I don’t need help showering,” I say as I turn on the light.

Cormac lightly catches my wrist as my hand falls from the switch and he turns me to face him. “Maybe not, but you will need help wrapping your bandages so they don’t get water damage.”

He has a point but for some reason, his pointedness irritates me a little. Bathed in the bright light from the single bulb in my rundown bathroom, I clutch the hem of my T-shirt and pull the fabric over my head with only a tiny wince of pain. My upper abdomen and breasts are wrapped in thick, white bandages to protect the stab wound and my surgical incision.

Cormac barely even blinks and he doesn’t break eye contact.

“Wrap me up, then,” I demand.

He obliges. Using the remaining cling wrap from my kitchen, he tenderly covers all of my bandages to the point that I’m certain not even a drop of sweat is going to break the seal. Each brush of his fingertips against my bare skin sends a jolt of energy through me, like a bolt of lightning. He remains gentle even as he guides me to turn and lift my arms. It’s so different to the last time he touched me when we fucked in the car, and part of me aches to return to that.

It would be the fastest way to chase away this heavy sense of weakness that’s settled in my heart ever since I woke up in the hospital.

“There.” Cormac steps back finally. “Now you’re shower-proof.”

“Thank you,” I reply, and my heart flutters. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Cormac is blushing slightly, but it’s difficult to tell in such a bright white light.

“Happy showering.” Cormac steps out of the room, then he remains in the doorway with his back to me. He’s really taking this protection thing seriously.

I don’t mind at all. As I step under the lukewarm, weak spray of my shower, I finally have a chance to run through everything that’s happened. From the motel until now, everything feels like some weird dream. I’m on a runaway train that’s dragging me away from my normal life and I ache to return to it.

And yet, a growing part of me is enjoying it. It’s the most excitement I’ve had in years, and somehow, my debts are paid—technically. I’ve no idea what happens next, and I should ask Cormac about Harry and the money, but I almost don’t want to know—not when that detective could pop up at any moment and start asking me uncomfortable questions.

No, I won’t ask. Not yet, at least. Right now, I’m going to enjoy having someone taking care of me for the first time in my life.

I finish washing away the grime and stink of the hospital and step out of the shower smelling like vanilla and berries, finally starting to feel like myself again. Wrapped in a towel, my heart leaps when I open the door and Cormac is right where I left him. He stands guard silently and only turns when I gently touch his back.

“Good shower?” Cormac asks, and this time he isn’t subtle in the way he glances down my damp body.

“Amazing,” I reply. “Well, as amazing as that shower can be.”

“The pressure at my place is stronger,” he replies.

I roll my eyes and move past him to the bedroom. “Like I said, my bed trumps everything at your place.”

“Noted.” Cormac lingers in the doorway, leaning against the frame as I make my way toward my bed and drop down onto the saggy mattress. As beds go, it’s a bit shitty, but it has my own knitted blanket and smells like me. It’s the only place I have that’s warm and feels safe, like the blankets can act as some kind of barrier between me and the entire world.

“Are you going to stare at me the entire time I dry off?” I ask, suddenly shy about removing my towel.

“I need to take the wrap off,” Cormac says. “If you will let me.”

“Sure. Then can I sleep?”

“Sure.” Cormac walks toward me, slowly rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Sure.” As more of his sculpted arms are revealed to me, I become distracted by the beautiful, intricate ink on his arm. For a man so brooding and silent, so much color almost seems out of character, but the detail tells me he’s spenthoursgetting it done. Which means it’s important.

“May I?” Cormac sits next to me and touches the edge of my damp towel.

I nod, and my breath catches in my throat as he slowly pulls the cotton away from my naked body. Before my shower, I’d been tense with tiredness and slight irritation, but the painkillers are working full swing now, and the warmth of the shower and the scent of my body wash have soothed me. Suddenly, Cormac’s presence is taking up my entire focus. As he looks down and works at removing the plastic wrap from my bandages, I look at him.

Really look at him.

His thick, auburn hair has grown wavy over the past few days, like he hasn’t had time to brush it properly. His beard is thicker too, and the downturned corners of his lips betray the deep sadness hiding inside him. These past few days, he’s been busy watching over me at the hospital and busy on his phone. I wonder when he last did something for himself.

Did a man like Cormac do things for himself? Did he have hobbies beyond fighting and kidnapping? Surely, he had regular, human desires outside of this Mafia life.

I study the wrinkles across his forehead, and each time he leans close with his movements, I breathe in the spicy peppermint of his cologne. My heart begins to race as my attention drifts down to his thick neck and the sexy slope of his collarbone. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone so I can see some gorgeous curves of muscle and a hint of auburn curls across his chest.

When we’d fucked in the car, I didn’t have a chance to explore his body. Suddenly, I ache to.

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