Page 10 of Blade
Her breathing picks up. Her chest rises and falls quickly. She licks her lips. “Yes.”
“Good girl. I’ll be right back.” I pull the bench seat out from under the vanity and help her sit. “Don’t move.”
Five
June
* * *
I’m trembling. Granted, I’m so fucking tired, I’m about to collapse. That could be why, but I suspect it has more to do with the man who has taken over my life and just kissed me.
He kissed me.
And I liked it.
He’s so bossy and domineering, yet he brought his lips in slow enough to give me the chance to stop him.
Wait… Did he say he was going to wash me?
I slap my forehead with my good hand and groan. And I agreed. I have several screws loose. Not that I care if the man sees me naked or washes me. I’m a grown adult. There’s no reason to be a prude. But I’m a mess. There are bruises all over me. Cuts and scrapes, too.
My hair is desperate for a wash, though. There’s no way in hell I can do it myself. I can’t imagine when in the future I might be able to do so. How long do casts stay on? Six weeks?
Obviously, I will have more use of my fingers before then and be able to lift my arm up and rub my scalp, but not today. Not tomorrow. Or even this week probably.
I flinch when he rushes back into the room.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you, honey.” He holds up a plastic grocery bag triumphantly. In his other hand, he has a rubber band. “I bet we can make this work.”
He sets his supplies on the counter, turns on the water in the tub, and squats in front of me to remove my shoes. I’m not even wearing socks because how would I have gotten them on?
“We should get you some flip flops.”
I purse my lips.
He lifts his gaze. “What? You don’t like flip flops?”
I shrug. “They’re fine. For other people. I do have some, but I’m clumsy, and I tend to trip over myself when I’m wearing shoes that require so much effort on the part of my toes to keep them on.”
He laughs. “Okay. No flip flops. We don’t need you tripping. Should I order some bubble wrap?”
“If you don’t want me to break my other arm, probably. Barefoot is usually my best option.”
He lifts my foot. “You have adorable feet, so I might end up tripping from watching them skip around the apartment.”
“Skip?” I shake my head. “I don’t see that happening either.”
His chuckle is unbelievably sexy. Every time he graces me with that sound, my heart rate picks up. Why do I get the feeling he doesn’t laugh often, yet he’s done so several times this morning?
Which reminds me. This man has a lot going on today, too. I almost forgot. “Sorry about your SUV.”
He shrugs. “It was just a car. Someone is ordering me a new one as we speak. I’m just grateful no one was in it or nearby.”
“Me, too. It was meant to kill us, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Or Simone at least. Those assholes were willing to go to great lengths to eliminate the two of you being able to identify their comrade. Idiots. Now they’re all going to prison.”
I met Simone yesterday at the police station. Apparently, she had been attacked by the same man over a week ago. She arrived to identify our assailant with her boyfriend, Professor Camden Arnalt. I took several of his classes when I was in college—odd coincidence.
