Ripley's Saint

by Isabel Wroth

  “How’s Gee?” he asked.

  Top grunted and reached a hand back to squeeze Gee’s good leg, patting it with a resigned sigh. “Still out. Hasn’t so much as twitched. If you’re up and walking around you can walk the fuck out of here before you catch some incurable viral infection. I’ll get someone on the paperwork.”

  Saint rubbed his arm up and down Ripley’s back, urging her to settle even deeper into the warmth of his body. She turned her nose to his throat and under the smell of the hospital she found his unique scent of leather and soap.

  He kept one arm around her and curled the fingers of his other hand around hers. Lifting her fingertips to his mouth to kiss them one by one, his mustache tickling her skin enough to have tingles shooting through her entire body.

  “Already done. Nurse said the same thing. They want to keep me one more night for observation then we can get the fuck out of here.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Hang tight while I do a sweep.”

  Ripley sighed in exasperation as Nasa pushed her back from the doorway of her own house, feeling her eyes bug out when the ginormous biker whipped a hand cannon big enough to down an elephant from inside his cut on his way inside.

  Saint had been a major grump when she had offered to help him, gritting his teeth like he was attempting to refuse the pain he was feeling from registering. He’d been an asshole most of the previous night, ready to get out of the hospital.

  Then the second Pen had pulled into the driveway of Ripley’s house, when she had asked Saint if he needed help out of the truck, he had nearly bitten her head off. Like her asking if he needed help was somehow a slight against his masculinity. His answer to her asking him if she could help him was- “I’m not a fucking invalid, Ripley.”

  Ripley had gotten out of the truck without another word.

  It hadn’t been her idea for Saint to do the rest of his recovery at her place. Saint had adamantly refused to be anywhere but with Ripley until it was determined that the shooting had zero connection to the issue with the Leviathans.

  Ripley had refused the compound for personal reasons, such as the complete lack of privacy and the reek of cigarettes that permeated the building, despite most of the guys having recently quit smoking. In conjunction to all that, the idea of Saint going up and down all the stairs to get to his room was ludicrous.

  In response, Saint had shrugged and said, “Fine. We’ll head to your place.”

  Following Saint’s decree, Ripley hadn’t had to do anything except wait for Ruckus to get back and gather up the things she had brought to the hospital.

  Standing in the entryway of her home, Ripley felt…conflicted.

  The relief that Saint was well enough to have been released from the hospital was enormous. The exhaustion she felt at having been there with him over the past seven days, minus two hours, was dragging her down.

  Hungry, desperate for a shower, and on the verge of an emotional melt down, Ripley felt an ugly bubble of resentment start to rise because she hadn’t been asked if she wanted Saint in her space.

  The resentment was ridiculous, because of course she wanted Saint here. He had gotten shot while using his body to shield her. It was the automatic assumption she would just go along with whatever was decided, that had her objecting. And the verbal smack downs whenever she offered to do something to help.

  “It’s clear, come on in.”

  Ripley lifted her head at the rumble of Nasa’s voice. Slightly startled by the sound because he was a few feet away from her and she hadn’t heard him approach. It was almost inconceivable that such an enormous guy could move so silently. Also, kind of creepy. Too tired to ponder that more fully, she walked into the kitchen, hefting her huge tote onto the counter to be dealt with later.

  “The security system is in place, Ripley. I put in myself.” Nasa was frowning at her as though he was concerned. “You got enough juice left to remember the codes if I give them to you?”

  Rubbing the heel of her hand, Ripley gave a tired shrug. “Honestly? Probably not. Can I write it down for later?”

  Nasa’s look changed to one of incredulity. “No, you absolutely cannot write it down. I’ll arm and disarm it remotely for now. Text me if you need to leave the house. Milo and Frankie are in the house three doors down, other side of the street. You go somewhere, you need something, you go with them.”

  There was no mistaking his words for anything other than what they were. An order. Her bubble of resentment grew a little bigger.

  Ripley acknowledged that in the minds of the men, they were taking care of her. Protecting her.

  Ripley also acknowledged that fighting them could just make things worse and possibly result in her death. Escape Reality had gotten shot to hell and Ripley had no desire to experience anything like that again.

  Her acknowledging all that and being smart didn’t mean she didn’t feel the urge to throw one hell of a fit.

  “Hey.”

  Ripley was gently forced to meet Nasa’s gaze. He used his knuckles to lift her chin, but his hand was so big he probably could have grabbed her whole face in his palm. Nasa towered over her in such a way as to make Ripley give an idle thought about being intimidated.

  “I know you’re not thrilled about the overly cautious safety measures. Just like I know you get why we’re doing it. Believe me, you’ve been making my job very easy and I’m grateful as hell you’re not combative and questioning every little thing like a pair of certain gingers I know.”

  Ripley huffed a laugh that had Nasa giving her a smirk. “I’ve got your insurance shit handled and a crew to come in and fix up your temple to girliness. You’ll be back in business as soon as humanly possible. For now, you just gotta rest up and relax. And don’t be afraid to ask for what you need. Okay? We got you. Things will be normal again soon. I promise.”

  Ripley’s bubble of resentment popped almost instantly. That’s all it had taken. Just for someone to notice she was not happy with how things were and reassure her that it would be normal again. She opened her mouth to thank Nasa, but a testy growl from the entryway of the house interrupted her.

  “What the fuck, Nasa?” Saint’s voice was hot with jealousy.

  As tension seemed to fill the entry of the house, Ripley wanted to squirm with uneasiness. Nasa didn’t give her an opportunity. He cupped his big hand around the back of her neck and drew her in for a hug. Even went so far as to drop a kiss on her hair.

  “Any problems, hit the red button. Keep it on you or within reach at all times.” Nasa held up what looked like a key fob car alarm. Ripley took it with a nod and Nasa waggled his brows at her. “I wouldn’t mind if some of those lemon bars showed up at the compound again, princess. You,”

  Nasa turned around and drilled a finger at Saint, “Quit bein a dick to your woman. Let’s roll, Pen.”

  Ripley heard a loud triple beep about five minutes after Pen and Nasa left. She was expecting some kind of nasty comment from Saint. Waited for it while he stood there glaring at her. Finally, when she couldn’t take the silence any more, she declared she was going to have a shower.

  *****

  His entire body hurt. Down to the last hair follicle on his toes, Saint ached.

  He had stubbornly refused more pain meds before leaving the hospital, not wanting to be unaware or dulled if he needed to react to a threat. Wounded, he was the perfect target for Ghost. Wounded and drugged, Saint couldn’t protect Ripley.

  Every bump of the tires over the uneven ground had sent another jolt of agony through his body. He knew he would adjust eventually and, unless something went horribly wrong, the throbbing in his guts would dull.

  Unfortunately, he had allowed the pain to make him angry. Allowed himself to seethe over the inconvenience of it and the feeling of being weak and needy. Ripley had been caring, doing anything she could to try and make the pain more bearable. For her trouble, Saint had snapped at her.

  Seeing Nasa with his hands on Ripley had pushed Saint up one mo
re rung on his angry ladder. He’d reacted like a dick while Nasa had read the situation correctly, noticing that Ripley needed some care herself.

  With a sigh, Saint gimped his way down the hallway, every step another punishment. He wanted nothing more than to lie down for a while, but close second on his list was to wash the stink of the hospital off. After he apologized to his woman.

  He finally made it to the bathroom door, hearing the water rushing into the giant shower stall. Ripley’s bathroom was his second favorite room in her house. His knock had Ripley tentatively calling back to him.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I come in?” he asked, loud enough to be heard over the water.

  “Are you done being a dick?”

  Saint felt the urge to laugh, but that would have hurt too much. “Yeah, I’m done, princess.”

  A gentle wash of steam hit him in the face, a hint of something herbacious and sweet on the moist air. Ripley had on one of her short silk robes, her hair pinned up, barefaced again.

  “I’m sorry, Ripley. I know you’re only trying to help.”

  He hoped he sounded as sincere as he felt. He must have accomplished it as her wary expression softened and a tiny hint of a smile curved her lips.

  “Feel like a shower?” she ventured.

  “Hell yes. What’s that smell?”

  “One of Athena’s Lemon Verbena shower bombs. I smell like antiseptic. You don’t smell much better.”

  She stepped back to let him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them to keep the warm, steamy air inside. Wincing, Saint leaned back against the sink to toe his shoes off.

  “Stop. I know you’re a big, badass biker, but you’re a badass biker missing two feet of his gut. Let me help you.”

  Ripley had gained a little bit more strength to her voice. A little bit more steel to her expression. He used the sink to brace himself, forgetting some of the pain when she stepped up to unzip his hoodie.

  He began to feel a different kind of burning. A different kind of throb at the sweet press of her lips to his jaw. She was incredibly careful to keep from bumping him as she helped him out of the sweatshirt, moving around to gather up some supplies from the linen cupboard.

  Saint watched her with growing amusement as she used a pair of medical shears to cut the bandage from around his waist. Oh so careful to not hurt him as she unwound the gauze and peeled back the pad right over the ugly row of black stitches.

  Her fingertips brushed his belly as she looked at it, unable to hide the tremble of her lips.

  “I’ll be alright, princess.” Saint told her softly.

  She forced a smile for him and reached over to rip open some alcohol swabs. “Cold.”

  Her warning was followed by the extremely careful dab and brush of the little pad over his skin. Saint didn’t even feel the cold. He definitely didn’t feel pain when she got down on her knees to studiously and with great care, apply the waterproof bandage. All the blood he had rushed to fill his cock, making a whole new kind of pain surge to life.

  “Careful, you’ll put my eye out with that.” Ripley shot him a teasing look from her prone position.

  He couldn’t help but to reach down and brush his thumb over her jaw. “Can’t help it, princess. I’d have to be dead to not get hard with you on your knees in front of me like that.”

  Ripley shook her head in amused exasperation, tormenting him with the butterfly kiss she pressed to the skin of his belly, right above the waistline of his pants. Saint sucked in a deep breath, raking his teeth over his bottom lip to stem the growl building up in reaction to the starburst of erotic sensation Ripley’s mouth on him caused. He knew it had been way too long since he had last gotten her naked, just based on the extreme reaction his body had to such a chase little kiss.

  He had looked back over his previous sexual encounters with women over the last few years, trying to identify one time where any of those others had gotten him so amped up, so on edge, so hungry he could barely think past the gut-clenching need to possess them and make them cream with ecstasy.

  He searched his memory for one woman who had made him feel so ravenous. Not a single one he recalled even come close. All those other faceless women paled in comparison to Ripley.

  Of course, he hadn’t loved any of them.

  He’d been staring so long at her, he must have missed her asking him a question, because she looked up and lifted her brows at him expectantly. With her hands sitting on his hips, thumbs hooked into the waistband of his pants, Saint was having trouble focusing.

  “Are you listening to me?” Ripley drawled.

  “Nope. Got distracted. What did you say?”

  Ripley gave a roll of her eyes and sighed, “I said, I’m going to help you wash up then I want a nap. No messing around.”

  “As much as I love messin around with you, I’m not exactly at my best.”

  He took her hands and she followed the careful tug he gave, standing up to let him curl his arm around her waist. It made a twang of pain spike through his gut, but not nearly enough to keep him from ducking his head to claim a kiss. Her lips gave to the pressure of his with a soft little murmur, struggling only a little bit when Saint pulled her closer.

  “When I’m back at a hundred percent, your ass is mine and I’ll mess around all I want.” he growled the sensual threat against her mouth.

  Ripley licked her lips as she drew back, with an expression like she was savoring the taste of his kisses. “We’ll see about that.”

  If not for the teasing sparkle in her eyes, Saint would have been forced to address whatever it was keeping Ripley from telling him she loved him back. He knew she did. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind.

  But he also knew sometimes, love just wasn’t enough.

  *****

  By the time they got in the shower, Ripley worried they were only going to have a few minutes of hot water left. Mindful of his wounds, she switched the pulsating row of jets to the gentle rainfall from overhead, and the mist setting to fill the stall with steam.

  She sighed as she stepped under the spray, goosebumps rising despite the heat at the brush of Saint’s fingertips across her low back. His lips skated over her exposed nape in time with the curve of his palms around her shoulders.

  Ripley stared sightlessly at the gray marble wall in front of her, lost in the tenderness of Saint’s touch. Floundering to deal with the sudden turn of events that had him professing his love and emotions towards her without hesitation.

  This morning’s nastiness aside, ever since he had woken up from surgery, Saint had been showering her in affection. Constantly aware of where she was in proximity to him, and if he felt she wasn’t close enough, he had pulled her into his lap or onto the hospital bed with him to keep hold of her.

  “I love this shower almost as much you, princess.”

  A rueful huff had her turning to set her chin to her own shoulder, glancing back at him with what she hoped was a droll expression.

  “So glad to hear I rank higher than my shower.”

  He crowded in closer behind her, his hands moving from her shoulders, down and around to cup the weight of her breasts in his palms. His lips caught the edge of hers in a soft, teasing little kiss while he gently plucked at her nipples.

  “You rank higher than pretty much everything, Ripley.”

  Ripley shuddered, bracing her weight against the wall of the shower instead of swaying back into Saint like she wanted. The surge of desire his touch brought making her dizzy.

  “I said no messing around!” she gasped out, her command totally useless as she was almost drunk from the simple pleasure of his touch after so many weeks apart. After six days of holding his hand while he slept after surgery, worrying she would never feel the ecstasy of his touch again.

  “I’m not messing around. I’m very seriously enjoying putting my hands on you after so long.” Saint nuzzled at her cheek with all the sweet tenderness a woman could ask for. “I know you’re tired, baby. I just need
a minute in here with you like this before shit gets real again.”

  Ripley nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. She let him move and push on her until she turned around to face him. He shifted with her so that the water above them didn’t pour directly into her face, tipping her chin up with his callused palm. A slow sigh eased out of him as he searched her expression, not liking what he found. Ripley anticipated him starting a conversation she wasn’t ready to have yet. Least of all in the shower, but after a minute his thumb cruised over her bottom lip.

  “Let’s wash up, princess.”

  They finished up just as the water started to cool. Just as the exhaustion started to overwhelm Ripley to the point where she felt like she was swaying on her feet. She didn’t even bother brushing out her wet hair or putting on her usual nightgown, she grabbed an oversized tee from the back of her drawer, some panties and crawled in. Ripley was face down in her favorite pillow when the bed dipped beside her, a hiss of pain snaring her attention to open one eye and look at where Saint was gingerly, butt ass naked, getting in bed with her.

  “Whose shirt is that?”

  She opened both eyes at his snippy little grunt, giving him a less than amused look. “You said you were done being a dick.”

  Saint grimaced as he pulled one leg up into the bed, then the other, his face whitening with the pain he must be in. She would have offered to help him, but wary of his reaction last time, Ripley just stayed where she was.

  “I am. But that’s a guy’s tee and I know it’s not mine.”

  She rolled her eyes and huffed in exasperation. The only thing saving him from getting whacked with her pillow, or kicked out of her bed, was the bullet wound in his abdomen.

  “Women don’t have to be given a man’s shirt as some kind of sacred gift. Until Lord Cheeto decides to revoke women’s rights along with everything else that brought us out of the dark ages, women can still go into the retail store of their choice and purchase men’s clothing without restriction or judgment.”