Page 70 of Sinful Justice

“I can never do that again,” he chokes. “I can’t—”

“Please don’t take that away.” A small smile spreads across my face as I open my eyes. “I like it. I likeexactlyhow rough you are. I just screwed up by not infusing last night, then I forgot again this morning, because Aubree was here.”

“You forgot?” he queries. “Or you loathe vulnerability? She was here, so you couldn’t possibly take out your needles and do the thing in front of her.”

I shrug and reach out to slide my hand into his hair. For right now, I’m feeling snuggly instead of vicious. It’s not a mood I often explore, but while I’m swimming in it, I may as well touch Archer and enjoy. “This isn’t something you can catch from me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do I look like I’m worried about me?” Taking my hand in his, he brings my wrist to his lips and peppers a gentle kiss to my bruise. “I know I’m kind of an asshole, and I know I like to pick at you. But I swear, Minka, hurting women… hurtingyou,” he shakes his head, so the short stubble on his jaw brushes along my skin. “That’s not something I do. I don’t get off on that.”

“I’m not a damsel.” I repeat my words from seemingly forever ago, though it’s only been days, and meet his eyes. “I have my routine, I have my meds. I need no one’s help. A bruise is just a bruise, they go away.”

“A bruise is internal bleeding.” Dropping to his ass, Archer fixes his feet so his knees rest against the side of the couch and his right hand sits on the floor, propping him up. “If you get hurt enough, what happens to you?”

My lips quirk up into a smirk, though I swear I don’t mean them to. “I die, silly.”

“How long have you had this?”

Frowning, I study his beautiful green eyes. “Why?”

“Because I want to know everything about it.” Leaning forward in an uncharacteristic show of tenderness, Archer places a kiss on my lips. Then another on the tip of my nose. “How long?”

“My whole life. It’s a hereditary genetic condition passed down on my mother’s side.”

“Your mother had it too?”

“No. It’s not as common in women. Usually, we’re just carrying the gene and give it to our sons.” I pause. Grin. “Guess I got lucky.”

“So your children will get it?”

I consider that for a moment, only to settle on a grimace. “I guess. I’m not at a point in my life where I’ve considered children. But yes,” I concede, “it’s extremely likely a child I create will also be hemophilic.”

His eyes harden with that knowledge. Then he moves on to his next question. “How often do you take medication?”

“Every second day, usually. Sometimes I can get away with three infusions a week. I walk a line between managing spontaneous bleeds and not giving myself an aneurysm. And yeah,” I open my eyes and smile, “if someone were to, say, kick my ass and stomp a boot into my gut, the chances I might die from internal bleeding are high.”

“So no fighting for you.” His lips wobble as they balance between a smile and the overwhelming emotion a tough guy tries to hide. “If I’m rough with you,” he rasps, “when I bruise you… does it hurt like a regular bruise?”

I close my eyes and relax. “Mmm. Sometimes, feels like I’ve been in a fight the night before, then I wake up all stiff and sore in the morning.”

“Fuckkkk, Minka.” Laying his head on my cushion, his nose brushing against mine, Archer’s eyes flicker across my face. “I thought you were untouchable. I thought you were so fucking unbreakable, nothing would ever get to you.”

“I’m still badass.” I yawn and squeeze my eyes so tight, moisture escapes into my lashes. “I just need a nap first.”

“Are you always this tired after infusion?”

“No.” The celebrity island host yammers about a hidden treasure. About a challenge to locate it, the winner receiving immunity for another week and another step toward some mystical pot of cash and gold. Ironic, considering they’re already semi-rich celebrities. “I screwed up this infusion, so I’m sleepy.”

“Are you hungry?”

I’m already stepping toward unconsciousness. In my mind, I see Archer’s bare back, the tattoos I’ve already spied in bed, and the muscular body that sends mine into a coma of passion and pleasure. He worries about hurting me, but the thought of him taking me to bed andnotbeing rough is just… it would be a tragedy.

“Archer Malone?” My words slur, but my heart finally begins to slow. “Arch?”

“I’m here.” His hot breath feathers along my forehead and pushes back my hair. “What’s up?”

“Don’t get soft on me now, okay?” With effort, I peel my eyes open and meet his. “I like you when you’re an insufferable, bossy bastard. I like when you’re mean. Don’t treat me like I’m glass now, ‘kay?”

Leaning in, he presses a gentle kiss to my brow so the scent of his aftershave tickles my nose and helps me drift into sleep. “Promise. I’m gonna hang around, alright? You sleep, I’ll chill.”

“You should be at work,” I mumble. “Gotta help Louisa.”

“She’s resting in your lab, Mayet. She’s okay for now. Tomorrow, when you’re feeling better, we’ll help her.”

“I said you can’t come into my apartment.”

He chuckles. But it’s his fingers stroking the bridge of my nose that sends me the rest of the way to sleep. “And you said you like it when I’m bossy. Goodnight, beautiful. Sleep.”

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