by Mandy Baxter
She laid a comforting hand on his shoulder as Damien panted through the pain. Without even realizing what she was doing, she leaned over him, laid her lips between his shoulder blades, and kissed. He relaxed beneath her, and let out a long, relieved sigh.
“Jesus Christ, Tabitha,” he murmured against the pillow. His voice slurred, grew lazy and thick. “Who needs drugs when I’ve got you.”
The quiet stillness that followed caused her heart rate to kick into high gear. “Damien?” Silence answered her and she gave him a little shake. “Damien?” She checked his pulse, slow but steady, and his breathing had become even as well. He was bound to pass out, though he’d lasted longer than she’d thought he would. The combination of pain, stress, and blood loss was too much for any body, even a strong, healthy one like his.
Tabitha worked quickly in the quiet, cleaning away the rest of the blood and shaving away the light dusting of hair that surrounded the wound before she re-sterilized the needle and fresh thread. The exit wound was messier than the entrance hole. More ragged and a little bigger. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to leave a pretty scar. Though on Damien, she doubted it would do anything other than make his body more attractive. Men like him wore scars well. And it showed just how ridiculous her infatuation was that she hoped he’d stick around long enough for her to see the healed marks in all their glory.
It took twice as long to stitch him up, but since she didn’t have to worry about causing him undue pain, she tried to be more precise with each stitch. She took several breaks to clean fresh blood from the wound, and by the time she tied off the thread, Tabitha was confident that despite her hack job, he’d heal up nicely.
“Tabs? You home?”
Seth’s voice called out from the living room, and Tabitha shot up from her hunched position over Damien’s body. “Yeah! In my room. Give me a sec!”
There was no way she’d be able to explain the guy naked from the waist down, passed out on her bed and covered in blood, to her brother. Not that she hadn’t walked in on much worse in his room a time or ten. From the foot of her bed, she grabbed a light throw blanket and slung it over Damien’s waist. She adjusted the pillow under his head to make sure he wouldn’t get a kink in his neck and cleaned up the mess she’d made, throwing the soiled washcloths in the hamper before closing her bedroom door quietly behind her.
“Hey, bro, what’s up?”
Seth smirked. “Bro?”
He lounged on the couch, flipping through channels, a beer resting in his palm. His boots were caked with dirt and Tabitha fought the urge to freak out that he’d tracked it across the carpeting. “You know, bro, short for brother. You didn’t just get home from work, did you? It’s after midnight.”
He slapped at his thigh and a plume of dust rose from his jeans. Gah! He was getting dirt all over the couch! “No. I went out with some of the guys, grabbed dinner, played some pool.”
“Seth, you need to be careful. You can’t afford to—”
“Fuck my life, Tabs, it was pool. I wasn’t out knocking off a bank.”
His tone, along with the added stress of the night, flipped a switch on Tabitha’s composure. “Don’t get an attitude with me, Seth. It’s not like I don’t have a reason to be wary of what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with. I’m the one who’s been cleaning up your messes for the past seven years!”
“Hey, no one asked you to do that for me. You’re not my mother.” Seth leaned forward, his brows drawn sharply over his blue eyes. “So don’t martyr yourself.”
Wow. Her heart was overflowing with emotion from Seth’s gratitude. “Someone had to take care of you! You think I should have just let you go to jail? Let Joey steamroll you?”
Seth gave an indifferent shrug before taking a long pull from the bottle. “Maybe.”
“God, you are such a selfish jerk!”
“And you’re a nosy, self-righteous, pain in my ass.”
“So, what? You’re actually butt-hurt that I’m trying to keep you out of trouble? Is that what you’re saying?”
With a sigh, Seth settled back in the chair and turned his attention back to the TV. “Just drop it, okay, Tabs? I don’t want to fight.”
“No. You just want to insult me.”
“Is everything okay out here?”
Tabitha and Seth turned in tandem toward the sound of Damien’s voice. He stood in the hallway, the blanket slung around his waist. If his physical form hadn’t been so damned imposing, his appearance might have been comical.
Her head whipped back toward Seth and he quirked a brow, a corner of his mouth hitched. “So, sis. What have you been up to tonight?”
The kid with the smart mouth had to be Tabitha’s brother. He recognized him from the picture on her phone. If he’d been at even fifty percent, Damien would have shaken the little shit by the scruff of the neck and made him apologize and thank his sister a thousand times for everything she’d done for him.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Doesn’t sound fine.”
She didn’t turn to face him, but instead kept her attention focused on her brother. Damien didn’t have any siblings, but he sensed there was an unspoken argument going on that consisted of scowls and narrowed eyes. Seth looked away from his sister first and Damien felt a surge of pride that Tabitha had held her own and managed to put her brother in his place.
“No, it is.” When she faced him, Damien could barely hide his amusement as she directed her stern, chiding glare his way. “But you shouldn’t be out of bed. Come on, I’ll go with you.”
“You’d better tame that kinky streak, Tabs,” Seth snarked from the couch.
How did Tabitha get through a day without clocking him?
“I’m young and impressionable and don’t want to hear or see anything tonight that’ll damage my delicate psyche.”
Tabitha grabbed Damien by the arm and steered him back toward her bedroom, but not before she gave her brother the finger. “He’s usually not such a pain in the ass,” she said as though she’d read this thoughts. “I’m sorry if we woke you.”
“No worries. I was already sort of awake.”
Truth be told, her hot-tempered shouts had brought Damien to instant awareness from the dark void that had swallowed him whole. He’d come off the bed like a shot, regretting the quick movement when his leg buckled under his weight. Not even a bullet through the leg had kept him from making sure she was okay, though. He would have made his way out to the living room in an army crawl, his fists gripping the carpet, if he’d had to.
Once back in the bedroom, Damien steadied himself near the bed while Tabitha cleaned the bloody towel away and turned down the covers. “I’ll get blood on your sheets.” He wasn’t used to someone taking care of him. But he’d be damned if he didn’t like it.
“Now that you’re awake, I can dress the wounds.” Tabitha snagged a box of gauze and a roll of duct tape from the bedside table. “I don’t have any surgical tape, so I’m apologizing in advance for the sticky goop that will probably stay on your legs for all eternity.”
Damien laughed. “That’s what makes duct tape so great. I’ve used it in place of a Band-Aid a couple of times. Obviously, I’m not used to fancy medical treatment.”
Her brows pulled down. “Should you be bragging about that fact?”
He smiled. “Probably not.”
“Can you stand? I’ll dress the back first and then you can lie on your back in the bed.”
Damien pulled the blanket from around his waist and let it drop to the floor. The sound of Tabitha’s breath hitching gave him a smug sense of satisfaction.
“You’re sort of my captive, you know.” The seductive quality of her voice sent a tingle through his body that settled low in his sac. “Until I can get you some clothes, anyway. Where are you staying right now? I mean, when you’re not working out of the IdaHaven. I could grab a few things for you.”
The last thing he needed was for Tabitha to go to his hotel room across town.
If she dug through the drawers she might find his badge and files on everyone involved with Joey Cavello—including her. “I don’t want you going over there. The hotel is in a seedy part of town and there are more than a few tweakers hanging around.” Though the story was fabricated, his concern for her wasn’t. Okay, so she probably wouldn’t see many tweakers at the Hilton the Marshals Service had put him up at, but he couldn’t blow his cover. His stomach bottomed out at the deception. Lying to her fucking sucked. “I’ll give you some cash. If you don’t mind, you can pick me up something cheap at Walmart or wherever. I’m easy.”
“Oh, all right.” He didn’t miss the twinge of disappointment in her voice. Why? Was she seriously bummed that he was concerned, or that he didn’t want her in his hotel room? “I have tomorrow off so I can do that, no problem.”
“What about school?”
The sound of tape being pulled from the roll sliced through the quiet. Tabitha’s touch was gentle, her fingers cool as she placed the gauze on his leg and covered it with a piece of tape. “I wrapped up the semester a couple of weeks ago. I have a month off before I start my clinical rotation.” Tabitha paused and another ziiiip of the tape followed. She secured the bandage at the bottom and a chill chased over Damien’s skin from her touch. “Done. Can you get into bed yourself, or do you need help?”
Her body brushed against his as she stood, a whisper of contact that only made him want more. Damien turned on his left leg so he was facing her and peeled his T-shirt from his body. Tabitha’s gaze heated, her eyes widening a fraction as she took in his bare chest. Yep. Naked. And you’re going to be joining me in a few seconds. “I can manage on my own.”
Damien stretched out on the bed and tucked his arms behind him, propping up his head so he could watch Tabitha work. The satin glide of her fingers soothed his aches and she used the same gentle care as she covered the wound with another square of gauze, securing it with a couple of strips of tape. “How does it feel?” She tested the skin around the edges of the tape, then looked over at him.
“Like I’ve been shot.” She cringed at his words and he went on. “But not too bad. I could probably use a few ibuprofen if you have them.”
She reached inside the drawer beside the bed and shook four of the little brown pills from a bottle. “These aren’t super powerful, but it’s the equivalent of the eight hundred milligram tabs you’d get at the hospital.” Damien held out his hand and she placed the pills in his palm. “Let me go get you a glass of water.”
“No need.” He didn’t want to give her any reason to leave his side. He placed the pills on the back of his tongue and swallowed them down.
“You’re not supposed to dry-swallow pills, Damien.” God, that chiding tone made him hot. “It’s bad for you.”
“Worse than gunshot wounds?”
“Not funny.”
“Get naked.” If he didn’t see her body in the next thirty seconds, he was going to put those scissors of hers to good use and cut her clothes off of her.
Her scandalized expression was a contradiction to the blush that colored her cheeks and the deep blue of her warm gaze. “Just like that, huh?”
“Yep. Get naked and get in bed with me. Now.”
Her answering smile reminded him of moonlight, soft with a glow that illuminated her features. Damien sucked in a breath and held it in his chest as she toed off her boots and socks, her gaze locked on his. She unfastened her pants and shimmied out of them, discarding them beside her. “More?”
The way she teased him . . . The pain in his leg was nothing compared to the deep thrum of his cock as it began to grow harder with every inch of skin she exposed. “More.” The word came out as a harsh bark, raw as it scratched his throat. “Your shirt.”
It came off in a flash, drifting to the floor in a cloud of black fabric. Damien devoured her with his eyes, taking in the creamy flesh and soft curves barely concealed by a few triangles of lace. Her underwear was almost too tiny to be worthy of the word, and the bra—a pushup number that enhanced the natural swell of her breasts—was enough to make his mouth water. “Turn around.”
She obliged him, turning to show off the thong back of her underwear, revealing the sweet bare curves of her ass for him to admire. “Now the bra.” The thong was staying put for now, but he didn’t want anything to hamper the sight of her breasts. She kept her back turned to him as she slowly unhooked the clasp and dragged the straps down and off her arms. In a dramatic whisper, the garment fell to the floor. “Let me see you.”
There should have been a statue erected somewhere in honor of Tabitha Martin’s breasts. It didn’t matter that he’d seen them before, held their weight in his palms more than once. The sight of her tortured him, teased and tantalized. He could make a meal of her body, licking, sucking, tasting every inch of her. Sinking his teeth into the supple flesh of her ass. He’d never actually wanted to bite a woman before, but he wanted to bite her. Not hard, just enough to make her moan.
One knee bent, curving inward as though she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her body. She fiddled with the lacy waistband of her thong and Damien swallowed down a groan as he partook of the visual feast she presented. “If you keep touching yourself like that, I’m going to tear these stitches out in my rush to get to you.”
A lazy smile stretched across her face. Sweet and seductive. “You promised me you’d be a good patient. Ripping my expert stitches would hardly be classified as good behavior.”
“I can be good. Let me show you.” She’d demonstrated in the past that she liked for him to take control and dominate her. This was a game he’d enjoy. He’d instruct her, watch from the bed as she touched herself and teased him with the sight of her body. And then, when they were both so mindless with desire that neither one of them could give a shit about his stitches, he’d take her. After the night he’d had, Damien wasn’t sure he could keep his own desire in check for much longer. He needed a release. But he refused to push her if she was at all unsure.
Rather than answer, she climbed into bed next to him, nestling into the curve of his arm. “You are hereby grounded from anything that will cause you to tear those sutures. And if you think I’m kidding, I’ve got nine-one-one on speed dial.”
“You’d rat me out to the paramedics?” he asked with a smile.
She answered with a wicked grin. “Absolutely.”
Chapter Twenty
Was it possible to die from unspent sexual energy?
As Tabitha lay beside Damien, his body overwhelming hers with its sheer size, she wondered if she’d make it through the night. Her body pulsed with need, blood heated to the point that she felt the flush on every inch of her skin. He was hard and ready—a bullet to the thigh hadn’t even slowed him down—and let her know in no uncertain terms that he wanted her.
Still, despite his cocky bravado, a gunshot wound was no laughing matter. And the truth of the situation was, the sutures she’d done were not the best. In fact, she’d never stitched anyone up before. That was a job best left to the MDs. She had no business tending to his wounds, and she’d meant what she said. If he stepped even a toe out of line, Damien was going to the ER.
“This is such a wasted opportunity.” His lamented words were laced with humor, and Tabitha smiled against his chest.
“Will it help if I promise to bring you breakfast in bed?”
He traced an idle pattern on her arm with his fingertips. Up, down. Up, down. Tabitha shivered from the pleasant contact that relaxed her body from head to toe. “The only thing that can possibly make it up to me is bacon. A pile of bacon. A mountain of bacon. I will need to consume the Mount Everest of bacon if I can’t make love to you tonight.”
Tabitha’s stomach twisted into a pretzel. Make love? Her bones went soft and liquid and she couldn’t have moved a muscle if she’d tried. The words were so tender. So honest. Damien was an enigma. A contradiction to his very nature. Again, she thought of his duality, the face he showed to her in private moments like the
se and the fierce, violent criminal who’d nearly beaten Tony to death earlier tonight.
“I can probably manage some bacon. You might have to settle for a Boise foothills-sized plate, but I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Mmm.” His chest rumbled with the sound. “Bacon.”
He wrapped her in his embrace and pulled the covers up higher, tucking them around her. “I know I sound like a broken record, but are you sure you’re okay? That fucker didn’t do anything to you?”
Tabitha shuddered. “No. He was drunk and high. He roughed me up a little, shoved me. Forced me to drink some nasty tequila. But you showed up before anything happened. I owe you one. Really. Thank you.”
“It’s my goddamned fault,” he all but growled. “I should have called you, told you I wasn’t going to be there.”
“You couldn’t have known I’d show up.”
“Still.”
“Shush,” Tabitha said with a playful swat to his abs. Good Lord, the man was marble. “And I’m sorry that Seth was acting like a dick tonight. That was my fault, too. I egged him on.”
“What’s his story?”
Tabitha rolled fully on her side, enjoying the heat of Damien’s naked skin on hers. She laid the flat of her palm against the hard planes of his stomach, marveling at the tight ridges of muscle. “Seth’s had some problems, but he’s really a good guy. He had a rough childhood, that’s all. We both did. We weren’t exactly taught good decision-making skills. Or responsibility.”
“So, what? He’s a troublemaker?” Damien tilted her face up to his. His gaze searched hers, his expression tense. “If you don’t watch out, you’re going to hit your quota for hard luck cases this month.”
“Try this lifetime.”
A comfortable silence settled. Damien’s touch was reassuring, the gentle stroke of his fingers coaxing delicious chills to the surface of Tabitha’s skin. She’d never talked much about her family with anyone other than Lila and Dave. And really, she’d barely broken the surface with the things she’d told them. In the quiet darkness of her bedroom, she wanted to lay herself bare to Damien. Wanted him to know everything about her. Trust was hard for her, but she wanted him to trust her, and in turn she wanted to put her trust in him.