I helped her clean her arms and legs, peeling off her shorts and tights, leaving her in her underwear. Once she was done, I washed my hair fast, clean enough from the water and soap I used on her. She stood, and I held the towel, averting my eyes as she removed the rest of her clothes and wrapped the towel around her body. She didn’t object as I helped her from the shower to stand in front of the vanity.
“Stay,” I ordered.
In my closet, I stripped and threw on a pair of sweats and a shirt, heading back to her. She was gripping the edge of the vanity, staring at her reflection in the mirror. I met her eyes in the mirror, the dazed and pained look in them tugging on my chest.
“I need to see your back,” I said gently.
“My back?” she repeated.
“I need to see how bad the bruising is.”
She frowned, and I covered her hand holding the towel to her chest. “Just loosen your grip. I won’t hurt you.”
“I know that.”
She sighed and let the towel drop in the back. I wanted to slam my hand into the mirror at the mass of bruises and scrapes I could see on her pale skin. Her shoulders had taken the brunt of his aggression, and I knew she had to be sore—especially the right one, which seemed to have suffered the most. I lifted the cream Sofia gave me, showing it to Tally.
“This will help with the pain, but I have to touch you.” I was certain she didn’t want anyone, especially not a man, touching her right now, but her reply surprised me.
“I like your touch,” she whispered, not meeting my eyes. “It’s okay, Julian.”
Unable to resist, I dropped a kiss to her shoulder. “You can call me Jujube if you want. Just for tonight.”
My silly words made her smile for a second, then a sob escaped her mouth, and she lifted her hand to cover it.
“No, Tally,” I hushed her. “Don’t cover up your pain. It’s okay.”
I made fast work of the ointment, soothing it into the blemished skin then running my hands up and down her arms to cover those bruises as well. Sofia assured me there was not only pain relief in the cream, but it would help speed up the bruise healing as well.
Then I tugged up the towel and dropped my shirt over her head. She slipped her arms into the holes and allowed the towel to drop. Knowing she was too dizzy to do it herself, I slid my boxers over her feet, one at a time, and pulled them up her legs, trying not to react to the softness of her skin under my touch. How it felt gliding them over her full ass and slipping my fingers under the waistband to make sure it was flat. She never moved, didn’t make a sound, and was surprisingly relaxed as I finished the job.
I was anything but.
I led her to my bed, letting her settle herself. She winced as she lay on her back, and I knew she was going to have trouble finding a comfortable spot for long.
“Your left shoulder isn’t as bad,” I suggested, watching as she eased to her side, then with a sigh, settled into the pillow, letting her eyes drift shut.
“I’ll wake you in two hours,” I murmured and began to leave, but her eyes shot open and she spoke, panicked and upset.
“Where-where are you going? Are you leaving?”
I sat on the mattress. “No, Tally, I’m right here. But I want you to rest. I’ll only be in the next room.”
She found my hand, her fingers gripping me tightly. “You won’t leave?”
I didn’t want to lie to her. “You will not be alone,” I promised.
She accepted that easily enough, her eyes shutting once again.
For a moment, I was still. Then without thought, I lifted my hand, running it over her head. She made a sound low in her throat, but it was one of relief, not worry. I stroked her damp curls, whispering the odd reassurance as I watched her succumb to the medication and the exhaustion her body was feeling. Her grip never loosened on my hand, though, and I made no move to leave until I heard my apartment door open and I knew Damien had arrived.
I slowly extracted my hand and stood. Tally frowned but stayed asleep, and I left the room, leaving a light on and pulling the door shut.
In the living room, I found Damien and Sofia.
“How is she?”
“Asleep.”
“How long?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
She nodded. I glanced at Damien. “You have him?”
“He’s at the warehouse.”
“Awake?”
“At times. He keeps whining about his nuts.”
I lifted one shoulder, recalling the swift, hard kick I’d planted in his crotch. It was probably going to ache like a bugger for days.