“I’m fine. This is a waste of time.” Charlie just returned from another set of X-rays, checking from a different angle. He’s sitting on the side of the bed. The nurse tried to get him to lie back, but he told her he wasn’t staying that long. She shook her head and left us alone. “God, I hate hospitals.”
“You always have.” It’s understandable after what happened to him. I sit next to him and take his hand. “I wasn’t sure how much of that you remembered.”
He shrugs, and I can’t help it. I wrap my arm around him, being careful not to hurt him. He leans his head against mine. “I remember pieces of it. Not sure how much of that is real memories and how much I’ve been told.”
“Harper still blames herself.”
He jerks around and then winces. “Ow.” He braces his ribs with a pillow and takes a deep breath. When he’s settled, he continues, “It was all my fault.”
I stare at him. “You were five, Charlie. And it was no one’s fault.”
Another shrug, and his voice is different when he says, “Thank you for saving me today.”
Is this a trick? “Me? You had him pinned to the ground, and it was fucking glorious. I didn’t do anything.”
“You did.” His gaze meets mine, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You taught me that move.”
It’s latewhen we get back to Charlie’s apartment. Nothing broken. Just bruised ribs. But he lets me take care of him. I feed him. Draw a bath and put his hair up. I wash him with teasing touches and sweet kisses. And dry him off with more of the same.
Seeing Charlie in danger did something to me. It changed everything. Life is too short. Things can be taken in an instant. If I lose Charlie…? The pain of thinking about that is unbearable.
I kiss his temple. The scar above his left brow. His adorable nose. And then his mouth. I keep it light. I’m afraid of doing anything more. I want to kiss him hard. Devour him. Claim him as mine.
But he’s hurt. And vulnerable. I want to stay with him, but I need to go.
“Goodnight, Charlie.” I kiss him again, and he grabs my shirt.
His eyes search mine. “Please don’t go. I— I need you.”
“You’re hurt.” I cup his face in my hands.
“I’m fine. And I’m not just saying that. My ribs are bruised, not broken. And you made sure I took the painkillers.”
Just ibuprofen. Is that enough? I can stay and hold him, but Charlie has other ideas.
“Brad, I want you to fuck me.”
Charlie spreads out on his bed, his hair loose around his head. His skin is pink—and red from bruises around his ribs. A few on his legs and arms. In the next day or so, they’ll be purple and a sickly green. I’m overwhelmed with emotion. This need to protect him. Take care of him.
But I can’t deny him. “If you’re in too much pain, we stop. Understand?”
“Yes. Anything.”
I kiss him slowly, savoring his taste. “You’re so beautiful.”
I trail kisses down his body, being careful not to hurt him. I kiss each bruise lightly and then continue down his body. He pants my name sweetly as I take his cock in my mouth and suck. His hands grip my hair, and when he seems close, I pop off.
“Brad, please.”
“We’re getting there, sweetheart.” I grab the lube and condoms from his nightstand. We’ve been preparing for this. I was always the holdout. I didn’t want to hurt him.
I sweep his hair off his face and kiss him again.
“Brad, you know I’ve done this before, right?” He’s sassy when he doesn’t get what he wants.
“I know.”
“And I’ve used toys.”
