Page 6 of Devoted Sinner

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Bryson’s eye twitched. “Sit down and be still.” Even Bryson heard the edge to his voice.

King did as told.

Bryson sat on the floor and went to work. He gently tugged slivers from King’s feet, cleaning the blood as he went. King’s gaze bored into the top of his head. It felt heavy, as if King touched him.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“That’s my job.”

Bryson glanced up and met King’s stare. “I’d say you went beyond your duty.”

King didn’t look away. “Maybe it’s like you said. You’re my friend.”

They held each other’s stare. Bryson had a million things he wanted to say. The bedroom door opened, stopping him from choosing a single one.

Andre stuck his head in the door. “I followed the trail of blood.”

King dragged his pajama pants over his hips, obviously trying to hide the sexy underwear he wore.

Bryson glanced over his shoulder. “Give us two seconds.”

With a nod, Andre closed the door.

“That’s Dr. Young. Let’s get those pants on you.”

Relief etched King’s features. It was obvious he enjoyed dressing this way, but he was ashamed of it. Bryson wasn’t. He wanted more.

Chapter Three

BythetimeBrysonfinished overseeing the cleanup and got someone to board up the house, pink streaks announced the coming sunrise. Bryson was mentally and physically exhausted. He had spoken briefly with Andre before he left, only long enough to find out King had lost a lot of blood and needed several stitches in various parts of his body. He had drugged King—like he couldn’t have done that himself—and finished the stitches. Now, King rested quietly.

The whole night kept playing through Bryson’s head. Everything from how beautiful King had looked to King saving his life and all the way around to King being an addict kept rolling through his brain. Oddly, he felt next to nothing when he thought about someone trying to kill him. He had no reason to be surprised. Threats had been slung his way for years. Not only that, but Bryson did business with crime lords. Getting shot at came part and parcel with that bullshit.

Once Bryson ensured the bodies on his lawn disappeared, he headed for King’s bedroom. He poked his head in the door, fully expecting to find King asleep. Instead, he found King still dripping from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Sorry. I should’ve knocked. I hoped you were resting.”

King looked unfazed. “It’s fine. I was covered in dry blood. It was starting to itch.”

Bryson noticed King’s bed was stripped. His bloody covers were on the floor. “Do you want me to send someone in here with fresh bedding?”

“Nah. It’s morning now. I may as well stay up at this point.”

For reasons he couldn’t articulate, Bryson was disappointed. Maybe he had hoped to coddle King. He didn’t know anymore. “Okay. I’ll get someone to replace you for Monday, since you were screwed out of a night off. Plus, you’re hurt. You need time to rest and heal. I’ll reassess on Monday and decide how much longer you need to rest.”

“I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

King’s nonchalance burrowed under Bryson’s skin. “Fine.”

At his curt tone, King cocked his head, as if trying to read Bryson’s thoughts. He did his best to hide his overwhelmed emotions. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

Bryson shook his head.

King’s shoulders rose and fell as he drew a deep breath and released it. He motioned for Bryson to come inside the room. Then he turned away and headed for the closet. As Bryson looked on, King dragged blankets from the closet and spread them across the bed. He pointed toward the bed as he moved to lock the door behind Bryson. “You. There.”

Bryson hid a smile as he moved to do as told. On his side in bed, he watched King pull the blackout drapes and turn off the light. He resented the darkness when he heard King’s towel hit the floor. The bed dipped beside him. Bryson measured each breath when his heart sped. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but he knew King was only inches away. Bryson chewed his bottom lip. He fought the urge to roll and drape his leg across King’s amazing body. Bryson wanted to set his head on King’s chest and listen to his heart. He was forty-four. Until he met King, he hadn’t realized how lonely he was or how empty his bed felt. But he didn’t know how to close the gap between them, since this was so new to him. He hadn’t expected these feelings and desires.

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