“Yeah, well, I’m not your biggest fan either, princess.”
“Let’s hurry before my dad shoots you.”
“Gotta love a story with a happy ending.” I peeled off my shirt and then kicked off my jeans while she leaned against the counter, shoes gone, socks gone. I was completely naked and trying like hell to think about anything that wasn’t her pink skin.
“Ouch.” She hissed once we were under the hot spray. “It stings.”
“The stitches have been cleaned already, so let’s just get the rest of you clean, okay?”
“Are you gonna wash my hair now then braid it later?” She slumped forward, forcing me to catch her slippery body against mine.
I ground my teeth. “You know I’m shit at braiding anyone’s hair but Izzy.”
“True.” She laughed, and then the laugh somehow turned into a sob as I held her tight. “Everything’s so messed up. I messed up!”
“You didn’t mess up.” I cupped her cheeks. “We were all there. You acted on instinct, and nobody can fault you for that—least of all me since I looked like the lucky target. Besides, we can’t trust anyone.”
“Not even each other.” Her eyes searched mine.
I gulped. “Not true. We can trust each other. Trust has nothing to do with liking someone and everything to do with knowing that at the end of the day, that person’s going to have your back.”
“Is that your roundabout way of saying you trust me despite your hate?” She at least wasn’t crying anymore.
I said the only thing I could, the only thing that would keep her safe, and me alive. “My love doesn’t matter, not when you have my trust. You’re like the keeper of souls, Serena, you keep mine safe, just like I keep yours safe. What use is love when we have that?”
She nodded. “You’re right.”
“Damn right, I am.” I grabbed the body wash and started rubbing it down her shoulders. “Now, try not to pass out.”
We didn’t speak the rest of the time, and while I tried like hell not to get aroused, it was impossible.
I just hoped she was too high on morphine to remember that my cock very much wanted to show her comfort in about a billion different positions and ways.
No matter how many times my brain and heart told my body to rein it in, my body just ignored it and kept wanting, straining, begging her to pay attention.
We were rinsing off when her hand brushed up against me.
I froze.
She acted like it was an accident, and maybe it was.
But then her other hand did it.
And before I knew what was happening, I was pinning her against the shower wall. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Her sleepy gaze found mine. “Touch?”
“Serena.”
“You grabbed boob tonight.”
She had me there. “I was taunting you.”
Her healthy hand reached down and squeezed my cock so tight I nearly spent myself against her fingers. “Consider yourself taunted.”
“We even now, Serena?” My voice cracked.
“I think we’ll always battle for that position, don’t you?”
“War’s boring when both sides are always on equal footing.”
“Mmm.” Her hand slowly pulled away.
Our foreheads touched as water dripped between our faces. Mouths were inches apart, her chest heaved.
I squeezed my eyes shut and gave my head a shake, hoping reality would set in.
She wasn’t mine.
I wasn’t hers.
She looked away like she didn’t want me to see the truth of the pain in her eyes.
And I let her do it because I couldn’t trust myself not to pull her against me and make it better.
Make us better.
I turned off the shower, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around her as gently as I could.
No words were spoken as we got her ready for bed, and when I went to open the door, it was to see Trace standing on the other side of it, her expression one of concern, not accusation. “How is she?”
“Sleeping it off, she wanted a shower, I tried—”
Trace cut me off with a hug. “Thank you. Can you stay with her, do you think? The guys are still downstairs meeting, and your mom stopped by to talk about a few things.”
I wanted to ask what things, but instead, I nodded and said, “I’ll keep the door open.”
“Don’t.” She smiled. “I trust you.”
She walked away, and when I clicked the door shut, I whispered into the air. “You shouldn’t.”
Chapter Nine
Serena
I didn’t want to wake up.
Not because I wanted to die.
But because Junior was sleeping next to me, and even though he was hilariously on top of the bed rather than inside the sheets, he was there.
And he hadn’t been there, by my side.
For so long.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and put the metaphorical mask of hate back on because it was all I had.
And I would take him in whatever capacity I could.
If that wasn’t his love, then so be it.
“Is the cease-fire gone?” His voice was raspy, deep, full of that sort of sleep that makes a girl shiver in all the right places. Hating him was a full-time job, especially with a voice like that, the body of a god, and the stupid teal eyes that always seemed to see past even my bullshit.