THIRTY SIX
P hillip leaned his elbows on the island countertop, cradling a cup of coffee as he watched Poison do her physiotherapy exercises. It had been a week since the fight—a week of restless nights and endless days. Every night, he’d lay awake, listening to her steady breathing, careful not to move too much so as not to cause her pain or discomfort. He had to slip out at odd hours to meet with his boss or finish a task, hating every moment he had to leave her alone.
He took a sip, letting the bitter liquid burn its way down his throat.
Poison moved with determination and pain, her muscles straining against the resistance bands. She gritted her teeth, a bead of sweat tracing a path down her temple.
His eyes followed the arc of her uninjured arm as she lifted it slowly, the muscles trembling under the strain. She lowered it with a controlled breath, her jaw clenched tight. Guilt mixed with an ache of helplessness—very wince, every flinch was a reminder of what he had done.
He remembered the first time he saw her fight, the raw power and grace that left him in awe. But now, seeing her struggle with something as simple as lifting her arm tore at something deep inside him. He hated this vulnerability, this stark reminder of how easily she could break, how easily he almost broke her.
“Need help?” he offered, his voice rougher than he intended.
The words felt inadequate, a poor attempt to bridge the gap between them.
She paused, her eyes meeting his. The resistance in her gaze was overshadowed by exhaustion.
“I’ve got it,” she grunted, her tone as stubborn as ever.
He nodded, respecting her need to do this on her own, even though he hated every second of it. He knew she was pushing herself too hard, but trying to stop her would be like trying to cage a storm.
As she switched to a different exercise, the silence between them thickened. His thoughts churned, a whirlpool of worry and admiration. She was a force of nature, but even the strongest forces could break.
He set his coffee down, crossing the room to stand beside her. Without a word, he placed a hand on her back, just below her shoulder blade, offering silent support. She tensed for a moment, then leaned into his touch. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now.
Her movements grew slower, more deliberate, each rep a battle against the pain that lanced through her body. He watched her, his heart a tangled knot. The lines of her face, usually so fierce and defiant, showed cracks of helplessness. He wished he could take her pain, absorb it into himself, but all he could do was stand there, watching her struggle.
“Let me help,” he said again.
She glanced at him, eyes narrowed, the fire in them dim but not extinguished.
“I need to do this. I need to get stronger.”
He nodded, understanding the unspoken words. This wasn’t just about physical strength. It was about reclaiming a piece of herself that he had taken away from her. He stepped back, giving her space, but stayed close enough to catch her if she faltered.
She moved into another set of exercises, her body trembling with effort. He clenched his fists, the urge to help almost overwhelming. She was a warrior, but even warriors needed rest. He admired her tenacity, but it tore at him to see her like this.
“Take a break,” he urged softly.
She shook her head, sweat dripping from her brow. “Not yet. I’m almost done.”
He exhaled, frustration mingling with a fierce protectiveness. She pushed herself to the edge, and he feared one day she might go too far. He knew better than to argue, though. Her will was iron, and once she set her mind to something, nothing could deter her.
Minutes stretched into an eternity. His mind raced with memories of the fight, the brutal blows, the moment she fell. Watching her now, he vowed silently that he would never let her face such danger alone again. She was his world, and he would protect her, even if it meant standing on the sidelines, ready to catch her when she needed him.
But he couldn’t stay on the sidelines; he needed her to rest and take the time needed to heal. Stepping closer, he scooped her into his arms. Her heat against his body had quickly become his comfort and strength.
“It’s time for your break,” he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness he rarely allowed himself to show.
She smirked, arching an eyebrow. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m getting you cleaned up,” he answered with a crooked smile.
“We talked about this,” She answered his smile with one of her own, and fuck, it made his cock twitch. “I am completely capable of walking by myself.”
He met her gaze, unwavering. “Humor me.”
As he carried her to the bathroom, she playfully tapped his chest.
“You know, I’m not some damsel in distress. I do have the basic human skills of a five-year-old, making me able to wash myself.”
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I know you can. But maybe I just like having an excuse to take care of you and see you naked.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t protest further. He set her down on the bathtub’s edge. She leaned back, watching him with amusement and curiosity.
He turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until steam began to fill the room. He glanced back at her, his heart clenching at the sight of color returning to her skin.
Her bruises had healed to a faint yellow, a constant reminder of what he had done. But seeing her now, with her blushed cheeks and determination in her eyes, it made him want to claim her on and against every possible surface.
He hadn’t allowed it to happen since the fight. No matter how much his body, his whole being craved to touch her, to kiss and explore every inch of her perfect body. Fuck, he didn’t even know if she still wanted him in that way.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said through a clenched jaw, trying to keep his voice steady.
She tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Planning to join me?”
He smirked, shaking his head. “Someone has to make sure you don’t cause any more trouble.”
She laughed, a light, teasing sound that made his hardness press uncomfortably against his jeans.
“As if I’d need help with that.”
He helped her out of her clothes, each piece revealing more of the faint bruises that marked her skin. His fingers brushed over her wounds with care, guilt simmering beneath the surface at the thought of her in pain.
Stepping into the shower, she sighed as the warm water cascaded over her, her casted arm awkwardly raised away from the water. He allowed his eyes to appreciate her body. Those green eyes shone like gems, dancing with mischief. His eyes roamed lower, over her full breasts, her curvy hips, and those long legs he would give anything to have wrapped around his head.
He shook his head, trying to push away the thoughts as he palmed his erection into a less uncomfortable position. Looking up, he found her staring at the movement of his hand, biting her lip, and the lust in her eyes ripped a low growl from his chest.
He took a step toward her, lust and longing consuming every rational part of his mind, but she stopped him with a raised hand, shaking her head.
“Sit on the edge of the bath,” she ordered, her voice low as she peered at him through her thick lashes. “Hands on the edge.”
He had no idea why he obeyed when every nerve in his body begged him to get into that shower with her. But he sat down and gripped the cold surface, his eyes refusing to leave hers.
He watched as she reached for the soap, lathered her hand in bubbles, and placed the soap back on the corner shelf. With excruciating, slow, deliberate movements, she glided her hand over her perfect breasts, pinching each nipple enough to make her lips fall open in a silent moan. Her hand explored her body, making its way to her stomach and down to the curve of her hips.
His breath caught in his throat. Desire roared through him, an intense need to touch her, to be the one caressing her skin. But he remained still, fingers digging into the edge of the tub. The sight of her, wet and vulnerable yet so powerful, was a torment he couldn’t look away from.
Her eyes locked onto his as she slid her hand between her thighs, her touch light and teasing. She tilted her head back, a sigh escaping her lips, and he felt his restraint teeter on the edge. The water streamed down her body, rivulets tracing paths over her curves, and he swallowed hard, his pulse pounding in his ears.
He couldn’t help himself. His cock throbbed against the stiff material, and he rubbed against the blissful ache with his palm.
“Stop,” she whispered, her voice a blend of command and plea, and he did. “Hands on the edge,” she ordered again, and he obeyed, gripping the porcelain—his breathing rushed.
His obedience drew a satisfied smile from her, her hand continuing its tortuous, slow circles between her legs.
“Such a good boy,” she said with a wicked glint in her eyes.
He moved without thinking, a magnet drawn to its opposite. Standing up, he stepped into the shower, not bothering to remove his clothes. The heat of the water hit him like a wave. He reached for her, his hands clasping her face as he claimed her lips, slamming her back into the wall. His resolve shattered. The kiss fierce and demanding, pouring all his pent-up emotion into it.
She responded with equal fervor, her hand trailing up his chest as she removed his shirt with one hand, nails grazing his skin in a way that sent shivers down his spine. Fingers tangling in his hair, she pulled him deeper into her.
“I’ll show you how good I can make you feel,” he growled, breaking the kiss.
His hands roamed over her slick skin, memorizing every curve, every dip. The shower’s heat mingled with their own, creating a cocoon of steam and desire.
“Phillip,” she breathed against his lips, the word a plea of need.
Dropping to his knees, he placed a hand on her thigh, lifting her leg over his shoulder. The sight of her, open and wet, fueled his hunger. He leaned in, his tongue tracing a path that made her gasp, her nails digging into his shoulder. Each flick and stroke brought her closer, her breaths turning into soft moans.
“Don’t let your cast get wet,” he commanded, his voice filled with authority and desire. “Hold on to the wall.”
She nodded, eyes glazed with pleasure. He hooked her other leg over his shoulder, his arms wrapping around her hips to hold her steady.
As he lifted her, her body trembled, and she arched into his mouth. Pressing her back against the wall, her legs around his neck, his tongue trailed up her dripping wet pussy, and he groaned against her warmth, craving more of her.
Her moans filled the steamy bathroom, each sound a spark that ignited his own hunger. The taste of her drove him wild, his tongue moving with a passion that matched the pounding of his heart. She gripped the wall, her knuckles white.
“Phillip,” she gasped, her voice a breathless whisper, a plea that cut through the haze of lust.
He paused, lifting his gaze to meet hers. The connection between them was electric, a silent conversation of trust and need. He saw the vulnerability in her eyes, the fierce determination not to let anything break her. His heart swelled with emotions so strong they nearly overwhelmed him.
He pressed deeper, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring every reaction he drew from her. Her hips bucked against him, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. She was close, teetering on the edge, and he wanted to push her over, to give her the release she craved.
“You’re so beautiful, my Little Viper,” he murmured against her, his voice rough with emotion. “I need you to be a good girl and come for me.”
Her response was a mixture of a moan and a sigh, her body tensing under his touch. He could feel the tremors start, the wave building inside her. With one final, deep stroke of his tongue, he sent her over the edge.
Her climax hit her hard, her body convulsing with the force of it. She cried out his name, her voice echoing off the tiles, her grip on the wall tightening. He held her through it, his lips never leaving her heat, drinking in her pleasure as if it were his own.
When the last shudders subsided, he gently lowered her legs, standing to catch her as she sagged against him. She buried her face in his neck, her breaths hot against his skin.
“Phillip,” she whispered, her voice filled with exhaustion and satisfaction. “I—”
He silenced her with a kiss, tender and full of the unspoken promises between them. “I’m not done with you just yet,” he said, tilting her chin to meet her gaze.