He arranged me how he wanted me, endless praise given on my body and how I made him feel. He played with my ass, touching me there while he fucked me and generating an orgasm from a different place.
There wasn’t an inch of me he didn’t worship with intensity.
Awake, I would’ve been shy, even alarmed at all he was doing. But semi-conscious-me had the excuse of my inability to comment or contribute.
I could do nothing but let him.
There was no other person I could’ve shared the experience with and trusted them to take care of me. Kane pushed limits I didn’t know I had, but his attention felt like a gift.
On the anniversary of the worst day of my life, he was giving me something else to focus on, and for that, I owed him everything.
At some point, his efforts slowed.
He slept with an arm over me, and finally, in blessed, happy relief, I too passed out.
When I woke, the drug had at last released me from its grip. Kane was a dead weight at my side, his breathing slow and steady, and daylight revealed something I hadn’t been able to see. He was hurt. A bloody gouge across the top of his shoulder.
I stared, alarmed but with other concerns mixing in. He’d been injured but had done nothing about it. Instead, the wounded gangster had driven for hours to reach me. That little fact made a home for itself in my heart.
I was also reasonably certain that if I touched him in any way, he’d wake. I wanted him to sleep for longer.
As carefully as I could, I slid from the bed and hid in my bathroom, showering the night from my skin. The bloodstains. Other evidence of him. It turned me on to touch my abraded flesh.
In the mirror, I admired the love bites and bruises on my chest and belly. Every part of me was well used, and the sedative was probably still in play because I only felt calm. No concern over him seeing me. I blow-dried my hair and put on makeup with a smile that had no right to exist today.
Maybe soon that would fade, but a girl could live in the moment.
Back in the bedroom, Kane stirred when I settled on the bed, a first-aid kit in my hands, and my silky dressing gown wrapped around my body.
He pushed up on an elbow, his gaze cautious.
I indicated to his shoulder. “That needs patching up.”
He took in the cut like he’d never seen it before, then slowly inclined his head, shifting to give me better access. From the kit, I found wipes and set about cleaning the wound.
“How did it happen?”
“I leapt onto the trafficker’s boat and didn’t see the gun until it was too late.”
I blinked and looked from his eyes back to the wound. “That’s from a bullet?”
“It’s only a graze. Just bled a lot.” He pulled a face at the mess on my bed. “I’ll buy ye new sheets.”
A shake of my head didn’t loosen my worry, but I continued with my task. Careful touches, not that he even flinched. “Was the mission a success?”
“We rescued two women. I’m pretty sure the traffickers croaked it, judging by Tyler’s style of rage-based takedown. There’s a hidden side to the guy I didn’t anticipate. But I got the fuck out of there so I could reach ye.”
Heat painted my cheeks. I daubed antiseptic onto his wound then found a butterfly bandage, pushing the sides of his cut together before sticking it down. “If it starts bleeding again, we should get you stitched up properly. But also? Top marks on theboyfriend training. You came when I needed you, even if I didn’t ask.”
“Last night, why did ye come here?”
That…was a conversation I couldn’t avoid. Not anymore.
Setting my expression to neutral, I climbed off the mattress and packed the kit away. “Go take a shower then meet me downstairs.”
I left him in the bedroom and fled, unsure whether he’d follow my instructions until I heard the water running. In the kitchen, with my hands shaking, I sat at the table in my usual place and waited.
A few minutes later, Kane joined me. He’d reclaimed the t-shirt I’d been using, his other being bloodied and torn, and paired that with his black jeans.
