Page 69 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. One
I lean against the counter, closing my eyes. The entire drive home, I was able to listen to Oliver’s voice as he made a series of phone calls. But now it’s silent, and there’s nothing to distract me from my thoughts.
What would’ve happened if Adamhadknown how to work that gun? If Oliver hadn’t reacted so quickly? I’m not conceited, but I know what would happen to Oliver and Elliot if I got killed. And it wouldn’t be pretty.
And now, Wren. She looks at me with the same amount of passion I feel toward her, but for some reason, she’s holding back. It makes my chest feel weird.
I hear the sink turn on.
“C’mere. I’m getting that blood off your face.” Oliver runs a paper towel under the water.
I move toward him, letting him scrub at my face until he’s satisfied.
“Hand, too,” he says, grabbing mine before I can tell him no.
He washes away the blood and cleans the cuts on my knuckles. I hiss when he pours rubbing alcohol over them.
“When was the last time you slept?” he asks without looking at me.
I’ve had terrible insomnia for years. It’s helpful considering the weird hours we end up working, but I do tend to crash at the most inopportune times.
“I don’t know.” I rub my face with my free hand. “Wednesday night? Thursday morning?”Tuesday afternoon. And only for a couple of hours.
“You need to sleep.”
“Not tired.”
“Well, you’re laying down with me. Because I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Translation: I panicked when I saw a gun pointed at your head, and I need you close to me.
I nod. He and Elliot are my rock. Have been for years. So when I get a chance to be there for them, I refuse to let them down. Forget that being vulnerable with someone makes my skin prickle and my stomach turn. They’re the two most important people in my life, and I’d do anything for them.
“Whatever you need, O. Whatever you need.”
Chapter twelve
Oliver
In the morning, I wake to find Rhett still in bed with me. He’s reading a book silently, unaware that I’ve opened my eyes.
I watch him for a moment. His brows are furrowed in concentration—he’s probably reading some stupid nonfiction book—but other than that, he’s completely relaxed. And while I doubt he slept a wink, at least he’s getting some type of rest.
He glances over at me and smiles. “Morning.”
I let out a groan, still too tired to figure out how to use words.
“I haven’t heard Elliot and Wren get up yet. You want coffee?”
I nod, reaching out and resting my hand on his leg.He’s here. He’s safe. No bullet holes present.
“I’ll go get some started.”
“Okay,” I croak out, rubbing my eyes.
However much I want him to stay and hold me until I wake up all the way, I don’t ask. He’s been sitting up in bed all night. The man is probably so restless he feels like he’s about to burst.
Before he steps out of the room, I sit up. “Rhett.”
He turns.
