Wicked Torture (Stark World 3)
Page 62
"Done."
He looked over to Kiki, certain she was going to argue . . . only to find that she'd drifted off to sleep. He moved to her side, then stroked her hair, his heart twisting. He hated feeling this helpless, this worried.
He might not be able to fix her injuries, but he decided right then and there that he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that she never left his side again.
18
"Hey. There she is." Noah's soft voice drifts over me as I force my reluctant eyes to open. "How do you feel?"
I take stock of my body and answer honestly. "Like someone shoved me into an oil barrel and then dropped me from the top of the tower at UT."
"In other words, mild discomfort," he teases, and I hear the relief in his voice. The worry, however, remains in his eyes. He's sitting on the edge of the bed next to me, and he starts to rise as he speaks. "I have your prescription. Let me get you a pill and some water."
"No, that's okay." I'm tired of being drugged up. The entire day is either missing or a blur, and I use my hand to try to push myself up, but I'm too stiff and sore.
"No," he says. "Don't even think about it. Sit back. Relax. Whatever you need done, I can take care of it."
I make a face. "I need to go to the bathroom."
To his credit, he doesn't even crack a smile. "Except that." He shifts, getting his arm around me. "Come on, let's get you up."
He's sweet and gentle, and though I can walk fine--stiff, but fine--he stays with me in case I fall, and then is waiting to walk me back to the bed. I'd inspected myself in the bathroom mirror, and now when I see him, I wince.
"Pain?"
"Just the mental pain of knowing that you're seeing me looking like this." The left side of my face is covered in such a variety of colors I could open my own Sephora. I can't even think about my hair, which is a tangled, unwashed mess. And while my swollen lower lip may be all the rage, I don't think the pouty-lipped look is supposed to feature a scabbed-over laceration that bleeds when I smile.
Noah's looking at me like I'm insane, and I lift a shoulder in a shrug, wincing again as I do.
"You're beautiful," he says, with so much sincerity I almost believe him. "Come on."
He leads me back to bed, then tucks me in. "Do you want soup?"
"No, I'm okay."
"Thank God, you are." He gently brushes my hair back, and I lean back against the pillows and sigh, moved by his tenderness and his attention.
"And fair warning, those pills knock you out, and you need more sleep. I'm going to make you take it soon."
"If I get any more sleep, I'll beat out Rip Van Winkle. What time is it, anyway?"
"After midnight."
Surprise rocks me. "Seriously? I slept all day and this late at night?"
He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. "I take it back. No more drugs for you."
"Why? What did I say?"
"I've been waking you up about every two hours. You don't remember?"
I think about it, but there's just a big blank. "Nothing."
His green eyes sparkle with mischief. "Such an opportunity and I didn't even know it."
I cross my arms over my chest and try to look affronted. "If you're thinking you could have had your wicked way with me, then you should know that I prefer to be awake for sexy hijinks."
I'm teasing, but as soon as I say the words, I blush. I remember all too well that I came on to him just the other night. And, I remember that he turned me down--in the absolute sweetest of ways.