“Who?” I said.
She smiled again, this time with teeth. “Everyone who owes you one.”
There was a shuffle at the door. Nitro stuck his head in, now dressed in a janitor’s uniform and carrying a mop. He grinned when he saw I was awake.
“Prez,” he said, voice a rasp. “You look like shit.”
“Takes one to know one,” I shot back.
He ambled in, gave Carly a nod, then glanced at the machines. “You gonna make it?”
“If you let me sleep,” I said.
He leaned on the mop, serious for a moment. “Club’s tight. Prospects are cleaning up the scene, Augustine is dealing with the press. Cops have questions, but they know better than to push too hard.” He jerked his chin at Carly. “You got a real soldier here.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said, closing my eyes.
He laughed, low. “You need anything?”
I wanted to say “just leave me alone,” but I knew better. “Coffee,” I said. “Real coffee.”
“You got it.” Nitro tipped a salute, then faded out.
Carly settled back in her chair. “You’ll be here a while,” she said. “They want to keep you under observation. Something about high risk for ‘violent behavior.’”
“They know me too well,” I muttered.
Her eyes softened. “Why did you come for me? After all this—after what I did?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. The truth was ugly and simple. “Because it’s what I do. I protect what’s mine.”
She leaned forward, hands trembling. “You’re not losing me again,” she whispered. “Not to them. Not to this.”
I believed her. I nodded at the door. “Tell the nurse you need a few minutes and then lock the door.”
She eyed me. “What’re you up to, St. James?”
“You work for me, Senator. I pay taxes.”
“I doubt that.” She stuck her head out the door and said something to the nurse. She came back in and locked the door. Carly approached the bed, her eyes never leaving mine. Her fingers worked the drawstring on her sweatpants, loosening them with a deliberate slowness that made my heart monitor pick up its pace.
"This is a terrible idea," she whispered, but she was already pushing the pants down her hips, stepping out of them gracefully despite her bandaged arm. Her panties were plain black cotton—practical, not meant to seduce—but seeing them made my cock stir under the thin hospital sheet.
"Best ideas usually are," I grunted, wincing as I shifted to make room for her.
She stood at the edge of the bed, hesitating. "You're literally full of holes, Damron."
"I've had worse," I said, pulling back the sheet to reveal my hard cock, already straining against the hospital gown. "And I've never wanted anything more than I want you right now."
Her eyes darkened as she looked at me—bandaged, bruised, but still ready for her. She climbed onto the bed with careful movements, mindful of the IV in my arm and the monitors attached to my chest. The mattress dipped as she straddled me, her heat hovering just above my cock. She’d recently shaved and the smooth landing strip looked delicious. "If you tear your stitches, I'm not explaining it to the nurse," she warned, but her hand was already reaching between us, guiding me to her entrance.
"Fuck," I hissed as she sank down on me, her pussy slick and hot and tight around my cock. "You're already wet."
"Watching you kill for me does that," she admitted, her voice a ragged whisper. She braced her hands on either side of my head, careful not to put pressure on my wounded shoulder. "I shouldn't want this. I shouldn't want you."
I grabbed her hip with my good hand, fingers digging into her flesh. "But you do."
She started to move, slow rolls of her hips that made the bed creak softly. Her eyes fluttered closed, teeth sinking into her lower lip to keep quiet. I watched her face, memorizing every expression, every flutter of her eyelashes.
