Chapter Thirty
I wake with a start. I jolt and gasp. The pain in my ribs pierces and takes my breath away.
I sit gasping, trying to claw for breath as I try to pry my eyes open.
One’s still almost closed shut, stinging as I try to look around the room.
My head hurts. Wincing as the pain shoots through me. I ache; everything hurts.
My ribs twang as I try to sit up. I turn and dangle my legs off the end of the bed, trying to breathe, just trying to fight back the tears.
I relax a little when I realise I’m at home, in my own bed.
I don’t know when I started to think of this prison as a home.
Maybe the shift came when he came for me.
But then I remember how he left again, and I’m just as conflicted as before.
The darkness of the room engulfs me, but the sliver of light coming from the bathroom confuses me.
It stings to look at. But there’s a shadow that’s moving in there.
Is it him? Is he home? Home, there it is again, that word.
Home. I tentatively press my feet to the cold floor, closing my eyes as I try to put my weight on them, hoping they won’t give out from under me.
I steady myself, letting out a breath as I slowly creep towards the bathroom.
I take a breath as I step to the door, uncertain of what I’ll find when I get there.
I slowly push open the door, wincing as the light hurts, but my hand flies to my mouth, and I try to silence the gasp that erupts from me at the sight of him. He’s shirtless, leaning against the counter with his head down, his knuckles bruised and bloodied, his breathing deep and measured.
It’s the scars covering his back that draw me in, and I step towards him, my hand outstretched as I long to touch him, but his gaze rises to meet mine in the mirror, and I halt.
My hand trembles as I pull back. He slowly stands to his full height and turns to look at me, and I jolt back.
There’s blood across his face and smeared down his chest. I can’t take my eyes off him as he slowly crosses his arms, his glare never wavering from mine. My breathing is ragged.
I’m shook; not at all the blood, although the sight of him is disturbing. It’s the tattoo. It wasn’t there before. The only one he has across his chest. My name.
“Are you hurt?” I stutter out.
A slight quirk of his lip as he shakes his head once.
“The blood?” I whisper.
“Not mine,” he growls. I take a step towards him, but he steps away towards the shower. “Go back to bed, Leonardo.”
He grunts, and I freeze. The look in his eyes tells me I should go.
As he turns his back towards me and flicks the shower on, slowly unzipping his black trousers, he pushes them and his boxers slowly down his legs, kicking them off and stepping into the shower.
My heart is pounding. My mouth dries as he steps under the spray.
The water beats down on him as the water runs red.
Pooling in the bottom of the shower, swirling before disappearing down the drain.
I let out a shaky breath as I don’t think, I just step out of my pyjama bottoms, tossing them on top of his trousers.
I step towards the shower, his back to me, his head down, and the water beats down on him as his hands rest flat on the wall.
Stepping inside with him, I slide my hand gently up his back, and he tenses; his hands ball into fists. His shoulders rise and fall harder than before.
“Your bandages,” he growls.
“You came for me?” I whisper. “You came for me!” I say with a little more confidence.
“I will always come for you, lil’ lamb. You’re mine,” he growls. The gravel in his voice rattles through my chest. I press my hand harder against his back, and he stands, turning to face me.
My hand rests unsurely against his chest. My gaze roams over solid plains of muscle, glistening with water.
The tattoo staring at me, I rub my thumb over it.
It’s beautiful, scrolling, swirling letters.
Leonardo. I never liked my name. I hate it, in fact, as my sperm donor gave it to me, then disappeared and left us until he thought my sister could boost his standing within the families.
But seeing it sprawled across his chest, I can see the beauty in it.
I glance down to see his thick cock pointing at me. Standing at full attention, but the surprise is that my own stands there just as needy. I don’t know what’s happening or why I feel like I need him. I’m not gay. I never have been, but for him... I think I might be.
I swallow and blow out a breath. As I step into him, our chests touch, and I roam up over every feature until his eyes bore into my own.
My hands shake, moving up and over his chest, trembling with emotion towards his face, and his eyes close as my hand reaches his cheek.
I tiptoe up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.
His eyes fly open, his big rough hands grip my waist. I blow out a breath, my ribs screaming at me, but I can only focus on him.
As my heart pounds out of my chest, the only sound I can hear is my blood rushing around my own body.
He stares at me. His jaw tense, his intense stare takes in every bruise and cut on my face. I smile as my resolve cracks.
“You came for me.” I rush out as I crash my lips to his.
His tongue pushes forcefully into my mouth, and I whimper against him as his hands slide down to my ass.
His thick fingers grip my cheeks as he tugs me towards him.
Our dicks are squashed between us, and I grind against him.
I moan and start to writhe, but he pulls back, and I gasp and wince.
His steely resolve spreads back across his face as I feel like he shuts me out again.
I’m panting as I blink and try to calm my racing heart.
“I need to clean up—go to bed, Leonardo.” He must see the hurt in my eyes, the rejection spread across my face, but he cups my cheeks, his rough thumb strokes over my swollen lips before he leans in and kisses me so tenderly, I feel my knees might buckle.
“There are painkillers in the nightstand and a water glass under the sink.”
He nods towards the bathroom counter. His hands drop away from me, and he turns his back to me.
I swallow hard as a breath stutters from me.
I turn and head for the bedroom. I lay myself onto the bed before the tears come rolling down my face, and I can’t stop.
I sob. Maybe he doesn’t want me now. Maybe I’m all alone again.
I cry until I can’t cry anymore. The bed dips beside me, and I hold my breath, trying to convince him I’m asleep, but his warm, rough hand tugs at my shoulder, pulling me onto my back.
“Take these.” He hands me the painkillers I’d neglected and a glass of water.
I can’t look at him. But I take the painkillers, passing back the glass before I turn back away from him.
I’m blatantly aware now that I’m still naked.
Everything hurts. My eye stings from the bruising, and I want to cry again.
I freeze as strong arms wrap gently around me, making sure he doesn’t press on my ribs.
“Sleep, lil’ lamb.” His strong chest presses against my back, his arms hold me tight against him, and his breath flutters along the back of my neck.
His thumb rubs back and forth across my skin, and the rhythm of his heart beating against me, strong and solid.
Soothes the panic in me, and I drift off to sleep.
Hoping to wake up and still be wrapped in his arms.