Page 67 of Sweet Retribution

I pull back the covers and see my legs, covered in bruises and scrapes. My feet are repulsive. “I shouldn’t be in your bed.”

“You’re right where you should be. The doctor checked you out last night and gave you an IV of fluids. He didn’t find any broken bones, but that’s not to say you won’t be hurting for a while. You should stay off your feet for a few days to let the worst of the cuts heal.”

I lift my chin and look into his sea blue eyes. “You saved me.”

He lowers his gaze to the space between us. “I’m going to get your bath ready.”

I watch him cross his room and flip on the light to the bathroom. I hear the water running and Stone moving things around.

I bring my legs around to the side of the bed and scootch toward the edge. I ache everywhere. I remember slipping but not hitting my head anywhere. I run my fingers through my tangled hair imagining the kind of train wreck I look like right now.

No wonder Stone fled as soon as I woke. I let my equilibrium settle, and as soon as the room stops spinning, I join Stone in the bathroom. He looks uncomfortable, even shy.

Turning away, he asks softly, “Do you need help getting in?”

I’m stable now and perfectly capable of taking off my shirt and slipping into the tub, but I don’t want him to leave.

“I could use a hand.”

He gives me a curt nod and moves closer, slowly reaching for the hem of the shirt. I lift my arms and watch him as he gently removes it from my body. I stand before him completely naked.

My body isn’t perfect, especially now covered in bruises and scratches, yet his shoulders tense and he clenches his fists that hang by his side. He wants to touch me. I can see it in his eyes. Feel it in the heat radiating from his body.

His Adam’s apple moves as he struggles to swallow. The vein in his forehead beats from the intensity of whatever is drumming through his head. I wait for him to strip. Instead, he turns off the taps and holds out his hand to help me in the tub.

“You’re not joining me?”

A line forms between his brows. “You’re hurting.”

“Exactly why I need you.”

“Gia.”

It’s impossible to hide the pain he’s carrying. He blames himself for my condition, which would be a million times worse if he hadn’t saved me. He’s my hero, once again, but he’s not ready to hear that.

“Please,” I whisper, ignoring his outstretched hand and reach for the hem of his T-shirt, dragging it up his chest. I keep my gaze locked on his, and he lifts his arms with reluctance.

He’s so beautiful. I lightly brush his chest with a kiss and slip my hands under the elastic of his sweatpants. I love how I’m the only one to see him dressed like this, casual and comfortable.

When he steps out of his pants and kicks them to side, I take his hand and guide him into the tub with me. Roles are reversed as I treat him with kit gloves. We sink into the water, and I sit between his thighs, resting my back against his chest.

He doesn’t speak and picks up a washcloth, dipping it in the water and gently dabbing at the wounds on my arms. I snuggle in deeper to his chest and tilt my head to the side, pressing my cheek to his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

He stills for a moment, then continues cleaning my arms. “I’m sorry,” he finally says.

“For saving me?”

“For putting you in danger. Again.”

“Stone.” I put my hands on his thighs and shift around to face him. My foot scrapes along his calf.

“Shit.” He jerks his leg away and clenches his in obvious pain.

“What is it? Stone?” I look down at his leg, the water surrounding it turning red. “You’re bleeding.”

I have blood on my arms and legs as well, but my wounds aren’t coloring the water as much as his.

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