He tipped his forehead against mine. “I hate that you’re reasonable.”
“I hate that you’re still bleeding and thinking about going to yell at people.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“You were stabbed.”
“It was a shallow stab.”
“Do you hear yourself when you talk?”
He didn’t answer that. Which was answer enough.
I leaned back a little and glanced at the clock. Almost nine.
“How long do you have?”
“Car will be here in twenty. I have to shower. Change. Pretend I didn’t get knifed on a Wednesday.”
The stab wound tugged at my brain again.
“Before you go anywhere, I want to see your side.”
“It’s fine.”
“Let me rephrase,” I said, sliding my hands up to his neck. “Sit down, Vincent.”
His eyes flickered darker at the tone. That was the unfair thing about having a dom; sometimes the only way to get them to behave was to talk back in their own language.
He sat.
I shifted off the bed, grabbing the first aid kit from the ensuite before he could protest. He watched me move with that look again. I peeled the edge of the dressing back as gently as I could. It was worse than he’d let on. Not catastrophic. But deep enough that someone had put time into that swing. The skin around it was angry and tight. Fresh bruise under the tape.
“Vince.”
“I’ve had worse. The other guy hasn’t.”
“Congratulations.” I reached for antiseptic. “That doesn’t make me less unimpressed.”
He hissed when the gauze touched the skin. Tried to pretend he didn’t. I pretended not to notice him playing tough.
“You’re supposed to be the smart Crow,” I muttered. “Maybe act like it and stop collecting knife marks like they’re merit badges.”
“Hard to focus on my personal safety when my sub is walking around in lace with little bows.”
Heat flared in my cheeks and down my throat. “That was last night.” I bit back a smile and focused on smoothing the tape, ignoring the way his fingers flexed around me. “Hold still. If this splits today, I will actually be mad.”
“Yes, baby.”
I smacked his shoulder lightly, at his tone. He caught my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist, all smug and soft.
“I am sorry,” He caught my chin and tilted my face up, pressing his mouth to mine. Slow, careful, like he knew if he deepened it I’d forget to let him leave. When he pulled back, his eyes were serious again.
“I still want the debrief tonight.” His thumb stroked along my jaw. “This doesn’t stop just because I’m at work. The dynamic doesn’t pause. You’re still my girl when you’re on the jet. You’re still my sub when you walk back into your parents’ house.”
“I know.”
His gaze sharpened, like he was checking. “You sure.”
