Page 80 of His Juliet

Like that mattered. She wouldn’t be in this apartment for much longer. I gently pushed on her shoulders and she sat down.

“Where’s your first aid kit?”

“There’s a small basket in the bathroom.” She looked so defeated. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and tell her everything would be okay, but I couldn’t do it yet. Instead, I grabbed a blanket from her bed and tucked it around her shoulders before grabbing the first aid basket. There wasn’t much in it—just some band-aids, antiseptic cream, and gauze.

I returned to Juliet and knelt in front of her, peeling the towel off her legs. I tried to make sure she was as covered up as possible—she didn’t need me staring at her pussy when she was vulnerable—but I couldn’t pretend that I hadn’t seen it when the towel shifted and that it wasn’t the most perfect sight in the world.

My eyes took in the vivid red lines on the tops of her thighs. I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Because underneath the fresh cuts were lines and lines of scars. Dozens of pale white lines marked her thighs. My breath hitched as I ran my fingers across them.

“This was why you wanted the lights off.” The first time we’d had sex, I thought she was shy about me seeing her naked. I never imagined…

She nodded. “I didn’t want you to see. I know they’re ugly and I understand if this is all too much?—”

She fell silent as I wrapped my arms around her waist and rested my head in her lap.

“Nothing could make you ugly.” I pressed kisses up and down her thighs, her blood marking my lips. I would spend the rest of my life kissing every one of her scars and making up for every unhappiness she’d ever experienced. I pressed one more kiss to the biggest cut before sitting up and cleaning them. Juliet didn’t flinch or complain the whole time, and I almost wanted her to. I wanted her to trust me enough to show me her pain.

I placed the final bandage and gave her calf a squeeze. “Let’s get you dressed.”

“Wait.” She grabbed my wrist. “Let me.” She gestured at the shallow cut on my pec. It had already stopped bleeding.

I swallowed hard as she cleaned it, being gentle and thorough at the same time. I wasn’t a stranger to getting hurt. My body was littered with scars and bullet wounds, but I never paid much attention to them. The way Juliet was caring for me made warmth rise in my chest.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” I murmured once she was finished.

I watched her carefully as she stood from the couch. She still looked pale, and I didn’t like how she swayed on her feet. She needed food, water, and lots of care. All of which I’d give her back at my apartment, where we would be safe. I tucked her into my side and pulled her over to a beat-up dresser. I opened the top drawer and was greeted by an explosion of lace. Lingerie that I had given her.

“Umm, not that one.” Juliet tried to shut the drawer, but I pushed away her hands.

“Do you want to go commando?”

She scowled. “No. Just… go over there.” She pointed approximately a foot away at her bed. “I can get dressed myself.”

“You’re cute.” I kissed her forehead. “Where do you keep your suitcase?”

43

JULIET

“Suitcase?Um, I don’t have one.”

“What about trash bags?”

“They’re under the sink. Why?” I stared at him, confused.

Romeo walked to the kitchenette, and I pulled on a bra and underwear before dropping my towel and reaching for my clothes.

“Why do you need a trash bag?” I asked again.

“I need something to pack your stuff in.”

I pulled on sweatpants over my stinging thighs. “Pack my stuff? Where do you think I’m going?”

Romeo turned to me, garbage bag in hand. “To my place.” He said it so simply, like it was obvious.

My palms grew sweaty and my chest tightened. “No.”

“Yes.” He came to my side and scooped all the contents of my underwear drawer in the trash bag. I swallowed the lump in my throat. I’d spent too many days as a kid throwing my stuff into garbage bags when I had to move to a new foster home.

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