Shakedown (Souls Chapel Revenants MC 8)

Hell, I’d once gotten into trouble as a young teen because I’d seen a medical condition in a person’s chart that’d intrigued me while at the doctor’s office. Needless to say, neither the nurse practitioner nor my mother had been amused.

“I didn’t want to bother you in the middle of the night if the other one was unsatisfactory,” I told him.

He paused, as if he was trying to ascertain if I was serious—I was—and chuckled softly. “Noted.”

I rolled over so that I could get significant side action from both pillows and then groaned.

“Maybe you’ll just possibly need to take the guest bedroom,” I muttered, thinking about the plain cotton sheets that I’d seen on that bed.

The bed dipped beside me, and then I felt the distinct slide of a body entering the other side of the bed.

Seconds later, I was being picked up, rolled over, and then deposited on the other side of the bed farthest away from the door, and then the pillow I was using was shoved underneath of my head.

It wasn’t gentle, either.

It was all rough manhandling, which somehow made his touch not repulsive.

Or maybe it was the man.

I didn’t know.

But when I opened my eyes to orient myself with my new position, it was to find Bruno on his back in the bed, using the pillow that I’d deemed as ‘his’ for the night.

He was also pulling the covers up past his chest and sighing.

“I don’t remember this bed,” he rasped. “But I’m starting to think that my body does. Think the pillow is wrong, too. But you can use that one for the night anyway.”

I was going to with or without his permission.

I smirked at him.

He didn’t open his eyes to see it.

I studied his features in the harsh overhead light, taking in his jaw that was covered in a beard more than a five o’clock shadow now. The dark circles underneath of his eyes. Then the bruises and contusions that were still very prominent.

Despite all of that, he was still sexy. Masculine beauty had never made sense to me, but Bruno, I decided, had it in spades.

“What are you staring at?” he grumbled, still not opening his eyes.

I didn’t bother to ask him how he knew I was staring.

“Studying your bruises, wondering what happened to you to get them on your head when you were wearing a helmet.” I paused. “I know that you were ‘hit’ by that van, but that doesn’t explain the contusions underneath where a helmet would normally reside.”

He grunted out an affirmative sound. “I agree. Doesn’t make much sense at all. It was like the helmet was put on after the fact.”

I agreed.

But, with how lethargic his voice sounded, I didn’t say anything in case he needed to sleep.

Something in which he did.

Soundly.

Something in which I did next to him for far longer than I ever intended.

When next I woke, the natural light from outside had dimmed to full dark, despite what I could see on the clock being only six fifteen in the evening—daylight savings time blew.

Carefully getting out of bed, I walked into the closet that I’d seen Bruno disappear into earlier and snagged a t-shirt that looked like it was the oldest and softest he owned and walked right back out.