Chapter 24 #2
He’s quiet for a moment, his fingers still running through my hair. Then, as if it finally hits him, he asks, “How the hell did you escape, anyway? I designed that panic room to be impenetrable. The lock alone should have kept you in.”
“Medical scissors,” I say smugly.
His fingers still. “Medical scissors?”
“Yeah, from the first aid kit. It took apart your fancy locking mechanism and it only took me maybe about thirty minutes.”
Leo stares at me. “You took apart a biometric security lock with medical scissors.”
I’m really enjoying the stunned expression on his face. “Yep.”
“In thirty minutes.”
“Give or take. There was some trial and error. And some sparking. And I may have gotten a few cuts and burns. But yes.”
He’s shaking his head, half in disbelief, half in what might be admiration. “You’re terrifying. You know that?”
That may be the nicest thing he’s ever told me. “You love it.”
“I really, really do,” he says and kisses me. It’s a soft and sweet kiss, like he’s trying to pour every emotion he can’t put into words into it.
When he pulls back, his eyes are suspiciously bright. “I’ll be right back.”
He disappears into the bathroom and returns a minute later with wet washcloths, a bowl of warm water, and the first aid kit.
“I removed the scissors so you don’t get any ideas.”
I roll my eyes as he sits back down on the edge of the bed and reaches for my hands.
“Let me see,” he says gently.
I hold out my hands and wince at the sight of them. They’re worse than I thought. Cuts from the wiring, bruises from pounding on the door, and burns from where the sparks hit my skin. My knuckles are purple and swollen.
Leo makes a low sound in his throat and starts carefully cleaning the blood away with the warm cloth. His touch is gentle, but it still stings.
“Ow—” I hiss when he hits a particularly deep cut.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, blowing softly on the cut before continuing.
He works methodically, cleaning each injury and dabbing on antiseptic. I manage to not say a word until he gets to the burns.
“Fuck—shit—goddammit Leo that hurts—”
Even though his dark head is bent over my hands, I can tell the bastard is smiling. “I’m being as gentle as I can.”
“Well be gentler! Jesus Christ, are you trying to—motherfucker!” There’s another wave of stinging pain. “I swear to god if you—”
“Language,” he says looking up and smirking at me, his dark eyes alight with laughter.
“Oh fuck off with that. You don’t get to tell me to watch my language when you’re the one—son of a bitch!” I jerk my hand back as he touches another sensitive spot. “That’s it. I’m doing this myself.”
“Emma.” He catches my hand and brings it back. “I’m almost done. I promise.”
I glare at him but let him finish. By the time he’s done bandaging my hands and arms, I’ve cursed him out in at least three different languages.
His shoulders shake as he places some medical tape on my bandages. It annoys me.
“Something funny?” I ask acidly.
“You’re cute when you’re cursing me out,” he says.
“I will punch you.”
“With those hands? I don’t think so.”
I glare harder. He just grins and kisses my forehead.
“Your turn,” I say, reaching for the washcloths.
He stills my hands. “I’m fine—”
“You’re covered in blood,” I interrupt. “And I can see that cut on your face from here. So shut up and let me help.”
He doesn’t argue and we switch spots. He sits still while I start cleaning the blood off his face, revealing the gash across his cheekbone. It’s deep and will probably need stitches.
“You should see a doctor,” I say.
He grunts. “So should you.”
“I’m fine. You’re the one who—”
His eyes open and his stare bores into mine. “Really? The pregnant woman thinks she doesn’t need to go to the doctor?”
I sigh. Dammit, he’s right. “Fine,” I grumble. “We’ll both see a doctor tomorrow. Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” he says dryly.
I clean all the dried blood on his face, neck, and hands. His knuckles are split and raw, covered in dried blood. From what I don’t think I want to know.
“Your shirt needs to come off,” I say, gesturing to the blood-soaked fabric. “I need to see how bad the damage is.”
Leo raises an eyebrow, and there’s a hint of that familiar cockiness in his expression. “If you wanted to get my shirt off, all you had to do was ask.”
I pinch his side hard, right where I know he’s got bruised ribs.
“Ow! Fucking hell, you violent woman—”
I smirk. “Don’t be an ass.”
“I can’t help it,” he says, but he starts to pull his shirt off. He gets it halfway before his right arm protests and he has to stop, pain flashing across his face.
“Let me,” I say, and help him ease the shirt off. It’s slow going because his arm is definitely injured—not broken, but badly sprained maybe. By the time we get the shirt off, he’s breathing hard and there’s sweat on his forehead.
The blood is coming from a long graze on his left side. It’s stopped bleeding, but it’s angry and red and definitely needs to be cleaned and bandaged.
I whistle in disbelief. “This is bad, Leo.”
He shrugs. “I’ve had worse.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
I work carefully, cleaning the blood away, dabbing antiseptic on the wound. Leo hisses but doesn’t pull away. His body is tense.
When I move to his arm he actually flinches.
“We need to get this looked at,” I say. “Today. Not tomorrow. Today.”
“After you,” he says stubbornly.
I cut my eyes up to look at him. “Dude, really?”
“I’m not going anywhere until I know you and the baby are okay,” he says firmly. “So we either go together or we don’t go at all.”
Goddammit. I want to keep arguing that he’s more injured than I am, but I can see in his face that he’s not budging on this.
“Fine,” I concede, annoyed. “We’ll go together. Later. After we…after we rest.”
He nods, satisfied.
I finish cleaning him up and sit back on my haunches, exhaling hard. Everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours is hitting me all at once. The assault. The panic room. Finding out I’m pregnant. The negotiation. My father leaving.
My father.
God. How is he doing right now? Is he home yet? Has he told Mom?
Mom. How is she going to take all this? Her daughter choosing to stay with a Santoro. Her daughter pregnant with a Santoro’s baby. Her daughter not coming home.
She’s going to be devastated. Or furious. Or both. Probably both.
I can feel Leo’s eyes on me.
“Do you regret it?” he asks quietly, and I can hear the apprehension in his voice. “Any of it?”
I shake my head immediately. “No. I don’t regret any of it.”
“Not even—”
“Not even the beginning,” I interrupt. “I hated you for it. Honestly, I still kind of hate you for it sometimes. But regret it?” I shake my head again. “No. It brought me to you. To us. To this.”
I press my hand to my stomach.
His hand covers mine and it’s warm and solid.
“Do you?” I ask. “Regret any of it?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he sighs and his other hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb stroking my cheekbone gently. “I regret how we started. I’ll probably regret that for the rest of my life. I hate that I did that to you.”
My mouth dries, and I open it to say something.
“But you?” He leans forward and kisses me softly. “Our baby? This?” Another kiss. “Never. I could never regret this.”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I kiss him back because I need this. I need him. I need to feel alive and loved after the day we’ve had.
His good hand slides into my hair, tilting my head back so he can deepen the kiss even more. His tongue traces my bottom lip and I open for him, letting him take what he needs.
When he pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.
“Lay back,” he murmurs, and I let him position me on the pillows. He hovers over me with his good arm braced beside my head.
He starts with my shirt, peeling it away from my skin. Every inch of skin he reveals, he kisses. The bruise on my collarbone. The scrape on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers against my skin. “For all of this. For putting you in danger.”
“Stop,” I tell him, my hand coming up to cup his face. “This wasn’t your fault.”
He turns his head and presses a kiss to my palm. “It was,” he insists. “I’m the one who—”
“Leo.” I pull him down for another kiss, cutting off whatever self-recrimination he was about to spiral into. “Stop apologizing and just…be with me. Please.”