Page 47 of Power Surge

He just shakes his head, a few damp locks of hair falling across his forehead and sticking to his temple. Carefully he helps me stand, allowing the sheet that was draped around my naked lower half to puddle to the floor. The corded muscles of his biceps flex, his pecs tensing as he hauls me high into the air like I weigh nothing.

I latch on to his forearms, my fingers barely able to wrap around the flexing muscles. Hot water engulfs the tips of my toes as he slowly lowers me into the tub filled with steaming water. Submerged up to my neck, I lean back into the milky water, his hand on my back guiding me until I’m comfortable with my head resting on the edge.

“Why are you so calm?” I ask. The water's warmth and whatever product he added works voodoo magic, relaxing the tension from my shoulders and back. “Someone broke into my suite.” My brows furrow as the gravity of what happened—or what would’ve happened—tonight hits. I sit up straight, water lapping along the edges, some escaping over the rim. Streams of bathwater glide over my shoulders and down my back. “If you wouldn't have been…. If I'd been alone….” I can’t get the next words out; they stay lodged in my throat.

“Hush, baby.” Sheer agony drips from those two words.

“They would've killed me.” Tears leak from the corners of my eyes. “Why would they…?”

With a frustrated growl, he shoves off the tub to stand, stripping out of his still partially undone pants as he does. Even the sight of his naked body as he steps into the tub can’t pull my internal thoughts from the morning’s events. Water laps around me as Trey slides his long lean body into the water, tucking himself behind me.

Both arms circle my stomach, sealing my back to his front. “Just relax, baby.” His lips and breath brush along the delicate skin of my neck. “I've got you.”

“But don't you—”

“They'll take care of it. I'm here to take care of you.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, a pounding knock vibrates the bathroom door. A very angry T bellows from the other side. Trey’s chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh. “If you come in, keep your eyes closed,” he shouts.

An uncomfortable laugh bubbles from my chest as T storms into the room, a hand sealed over his eyes in a childlike way. He turns, slamming the door shut with both hands.

“Are you okay?” T asks, still facing the door, his voice tight.

“We both are—” Trey starts, but I cut him off, knowing he won’t admit to his injuries.

“Trouble is a little banged up. I think he hit his head,” I add.

The arm around my waist tightens.

“Do you need a doctor?” Yep, that's worry lacing that deep rumble.

“No, I’m fine. She's good too. In shock but no injuries.”

“Why the hell did you bring her in here?” T's shoulders twitch like he's desperate to turn and face us. “There's a dead fucker out there, and they—”

“She was in shock, Davis.”Oh, pulling out the first name. This is serious.“There are a dozen agents in that room right now, along with the king's security. I had to get her away from it all. Don't fucking judge me on how I'm taking care of my girlfriend.”

“Not your girlfriend right now, you idiot. The motherfucking president.” I jerk in the water, curling tighter into Trey's arms at the crunch of wood beneath T's fist. A wide fissure opens in the door.

“Fucking cut it out, Tank. You're scaring her,” Trey hisses. “There is no fucking protocol for any of this,” he yells. “I'm doing the best I can.” Water trickles as he raises a hand from the water and glides it from the crown of my head to the wet tips of my hair. “I'm not doing so great either.”

“I can’t do this, can’t talk to a damn door. Both of you get the hell out of that damn tub and get a robe on her now,” Tank bellows. “I'm turning around in twenty seconds no matter what. It’s up to you if I see you both butt-ass naked. Your choice.”

With an annoyed grunt, Trey slips from behind me and exits the tub. After grabbing two towels off the shelf where several others are neatly stacked, he dives both hands beneath the water and scoops me out. My reaching fingers are ignored; instead, he stretches out the towel and wraps it around my chest himself, securing the end between my breasts.

With a satisfied nod, he flicks a glare to his friend’s back. “She's covered,” Trey snaps.

Worry eats at me. I've never heard them talk like this to one another.

Tank whirls around and steps to the middle of the large bathroom. His gaze scans me first, then Trey as he finishes drying off. Only once he’s given us the once-over, several times, do his shoulders relax. He scrubs a hand over his exhausted-looking face.

“Tell me what happened. Every detail.”

Trey dives in, recounting the past hour, even down to the detail of what we were doing when he first heard the noise. I feel my skin heat with embarrassment. With my muscles weak as noodles, I perch on the edge of the tub to keep from falling over. That’s just what I need right now, another smack to the face. Remembering the earlier fall, I brush the pads of two fingers over my right cheekbone and wince.

“She’s hurt,” Tank bites out.

“I fell on my face,” I say on a hysterical laugh. I cover my mouth as another chuckle bubbles up. “When I was reaching for the gun.” I cackle. “Me, with a gun. Bang, bang.”

Oh hell, there is something really wrong with me.

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