He’s heavy.
I had no idea how much he held up his own weight when he was on top of me, but I don’t say a word as I stroke a hand down his back.
I’ve never felt more at home than I do in this moment.
Which I know is a mistake. But I push those thoughts away. I’m only going to live in moments, and this one is perfect.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Katarina
I thinkI fall back to sleep with Win on top of me. But I wake when he shifts, cool air hitting my skin.
My eyes pop open even as he smooths a hand over my hair.
“It’s a mess,” I whisper, nipping at my lip.
“I like it like that,” he says back, capturing my mouth again. “But perhaps we should shower.”
“Good idea.” I swear, every muscle is sore after what we just did, and a hot shower would go a long way in easing the aches.
He lifts off me and starts to sit up before he freezes. “Katarina.”
Not Kitten. Honestly, I’ve started to love the nickname. I like the idea of being a kitten that he pets and cuddles.
I am going soft. But Win looks anything but… “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” he rumbles looking down between my legs. I follow his gaze and realize, he’s covered in blood. “Oh my God, Win, are you all right?”
His gaze goes back to mine his eyes going wide. “Me?”
And that’s when I look down at myself. I am the reason that Win is covered in blood. “Should have known. I’ve always been a bleeder.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” he rumbles.
Win doesn’t scare me often, but I’m a little frightened right now. Maybe it’s the vulnerability of my position, or the fact that my muscles are next to useless.
“I don’t seem to clot as quickly as other people. I’ve almost bled out twice,” and then I wave at one of the wounds on my abdomen.
Win is back down on top of my body, his hands coming to either side of my face. “No one is hurting you ever again. Least of all, me.”
“Win,” I sigh. We both know he’s going to hurt me. Badly. “You can’t make that promise. It’s…”
But I trail off as he pushes up again, carrying me with him.
The bed is a mess, but I can’t worry too much as he brings me into the large, tiled shower. He turns on several of the heads and warm water sprays at us from several angles. “It’s like a carwash,” I murmur into his shoulder.
“Not funny.”
“I didn’t think it was too bad. Certainly not my worst joke ever.” I lift my head as he grabs the soap and starts washing my back. He sets me down on my feet and begins gently washing the back of my legs.
“You’re hurt. We’re not talking about putting you through a carwash.”
His protectiveness is really sweet, but he doesn’t need to treat me like some powder-puff princess. “Your shower is a bit like one and?—”
He stands holding my face between his hands. “You’re not some object to be used and abused, Katarina Ivanov, and I won’t stand for anyone, not even you, devaluing your worth.”
I stare at him, trying to understand what’s got him so upset. “It’s just a little blood. It’s not that big of a deal.”
