He chuckles and rubs his knuckles along my spine and shoulder blade. After a few moments, he kisses the top of my head.
“Come on, let’s go take a bath.”
I wrinkle my nose, but get up. “What is it with you and baths?”
He laughs and grabs my hand before leading me to the bathroom. “We won’t stay in there long, but it will help with any soreness you might feel later,” he explains.
After the bathtub fills up, he helps me get in, then climbs in behind me. I sit in front of him and lean against his chest. Thewarm water does help the soreness in my thighs and abs. He’s very quiet. Normally when we try something new, he likes to talk. I bite my lip, wondering if I did something wrong.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
Victor rubs the palms of his hands from my shoulders down my arms. “Yes.” He takes a deep breath. “We didn’t talk about protection.”
My heart drops down to my stomach. I didn’t think about talking about protection because it’s a nonissue for me. I shrug one shoulder, trying not to make a big deal out of it. “It’s okay.” I try my best to make my voice sound normal.
“It’s not okay. That’s a discussion we should have had. It’s my responsibility to make sure we’re being safe. I mean, I’m clean and I’m assuming you are. Are you on the pill?”
I exhale and close my eyes.God, he’s not going to drop this, is he? Has he not figured out what the scars on my abdomen are?“No, I’m not on the pill.” He’s quiet. “But it’s okay,” I finally say.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t get pregnant.”
Chapter forty-seven
Victor
I’m sitting in my office at the pub while I wait for Connor. I can’t stop thinking about Olivia’s revelation that she can’t get pregnant.How does she know that?I tried to push her about it, but she absolutely refused to talk about it. On Sunday when I brought it up again, she actually asked me if I was that dense, which pissed me off so I didn’t bring it up again.What the hell did that mean?
I had the hardest time dropping her off at her house knowing Donovan was around, but I knew if I demanded she stay, she’d think it was because I wanted answers and I could tell she needed some space. So, I threatened Lane and Arden. If anything happened to her, they’d pay with their lives. Lane nodded in understanding, Arden snorted, and I went home to take my frustrations out on my punching bag until my knuckles were bleeding.
There’s a knock on my door and one of the girls sticks her head in the door. “Connor is here, Mr. Valentine.” I nod and stand. Walking out of the hallway, I spot Connor waiting at the bar.
“Connor.” I extend my hand toward him and he shakes mine in greeting as I sit in the chair next to his. “How are you feeling? I bet it’s nice being home now.” I motion to Gale, the newest bartender, and he walks over.
“I’m still sore, but sleeping in my bed is nice,” he replies.
Humming in understanding, I glance at Gale. “Water for me. Do you want a beer?” I ask Connor.
He shakes his head. “No, still on pain medicine, so I don’t need that right now. I’ll take water too,” he says. Gale grabs two bottled waters and sets them in front of us. Connor takes a few swallows from his as he studies me. He wants to know why I wanted to talk to him. After what I found out over the weekend, it’s even more important.
“I appreciate you meeting me here. We had a shipment come in, and I wanted to be here to sign for it,” I tell him. Not that I owe him an explanation, but I watch all of that closely now.
He shrugs. “Do you always oversee shipments that come in?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Yep. I had an incident at a restaurant I used to own, and I don’t want a repeat of that.” Maybe one day I’ll tell him more, but today is not that day. We sit in an awkward silence for a few seconds. I need to ask him for help, but don’t know how to approach it.
“Thanks for helping while I was out of it,” he mumbles.
I can’t help but smirk. “I’m not a bad guy, Connor.”
He twists the water bottle cap between his fingers, staring down at the bar top. “That’s what I hear,” he replies. He finally looks at me and I raise an eyebrow. “Anyway, I still can’t do certain things, but as soon as I can drive again, I’ll be coming to the sites to at least oversee things.”
With a nod, I say, “I get that. I have a hard time sitting around doing nothing, too.” I scratch at my beard. Maybe if I show him we have more in common than he thinks, he’ll begin to trust me more.
He points at my tattoos. “How long did it take you to get that completed?”
I glance down and chuckle. This is just my arm. He hasn’t seen my back. “About twenty hours. I could only do it a couple of hours each Saturday, so it took about two months. You want one?” I ask.
