Harshal #2
He spoke with confidence and a dominance that’s not too demanding, not too arrogant, but just enough, enough to make him sound sexy. The engine roars to life and he takes off, going back to Vegas.
We don’t go back the hotel like I thought we would. No, we go to one of the many drug stores on the strip.
“Why are we here?” I ask.
He shuts off the bike. Frani and Fritzi stayed behind to set the car on fire and I heard the explosion seconds after Wraith and I had left so I’m assuming they’re on their way back to Vegas as well.
“You need some medical attention.” He says.
He pulls the helmet off my head and I groan internally as I watch him hang it on one of the bike handles. It smelled of him and even though I’d rather die than admit this, his smell gave me comfort on the way here and now it’s gone.
“I don’t need medical attention, I’m fine, the blood on me isn’t mine.” I state.
I look down at myself and see my knuckles are cut and bruised and my wrists are raw from the cuffs.
I guess whatever they used to drug me when I was out is strong enough to numb because I don’t feel anything, assuming they used drugs on me.
He lifts up my shirt to look at my ribs and if I’m not mistaken his pupils dilate as he examines the bruise on my ribs.
“You put up a good fight, Grey Eyes, but you still got some damage done to you.” He says, his voice raspy.
I look at him and my eyes zero in on his tongue that darts out to wet his pretty pink lips. I smile with pride.
“Thanks.” I perk up.
He chuckles. “Don’t think you’re tough now, Grey Eyes.”
He pulls me off the bike and takes my hand as if we’re a couple. I try to pull back but his grip only tightens.
“We’re not together, you know.” I state.
“And?” he asks as we enter the store.
“Which means we don’t need to hold hands as if we are.” I say as we head to the medical section. “We’re not even friends.”
He’s silent as he looks at the shelves and a second or so later his hand lets go of mine and it all of a sudden feels cold. He grabs some ointment before heading further down the aisle to grab some alcohol wipes and medicated lip balm. Next, he grabs a bottle of painkillers and I say,
“I don’t feel anything, just so you know so those won’t be necessary.”
“Just in case.” He grunts before heading to the front where the ice is.
“I can take care of myself you know.” I say as I follow him like a lost puppy.
He grabs a small bag of ice and heads to the counter.
“So?” he asks.
“So... you don’t have to do this.” I point out.
The cashier rings up the items and Wraith pays for them.
“I’ll pay you back.” I said.
“Keep your money, if I didn’t want to get them I wouldn’t have gotten them, trust me.” he growls as we exit the store.
Grabbing the helmet from the handles he turns to sit it on my head.
“Get on and hold this.” He holds the bag out for me to take.
I do as he says and he gets on and we venture back to the hotel. I cringe as we enter our room... our messy room to be specific. His bed is broken and sheets are thrown everywhere. The TV is broken and my bed is crooked.
“Looks like we’re going to have to share a bed once and for all.” I joke.
Wraith goes to straighten my bed before he says,
“I’ll take the floor.”
He then leaves the room for a couple minutes and I go use the bathroom.
When he comes back he has fresh sheets in his hand and he strips the bed, redressing it in the fresh sheets.
I try to help but he just moves me out of the way.
After the bed is fixed he stalks over to me and grabs the bag I was once holding.
He tosses it on the bed before he pushes me back to the bathroom.
“Why didn’t you shower while you were in here?” he asks, stripping me from my shirt.
I don’t respond as I, for some odd reason, let him undress me.
“You can sleep in one of my shirts.” He says, tossing my clothes onto the counter.
I feel weird being naked in front of him, so timidly I cover my junk as he walks to the shower and turn it on. Testing the water he adjusts it before turning to me. Grabbing my forearm he pulls me toward the shower and places me inside. He smacks my ass before saying,
“Shower, Grey Eyes.”
Turning I watch him exit the bathroom in an array of emotions.
How can a man like him be this... caring, this gentle?
! My body does as instructed and begins to shower.
After my body is clean once again I step out and begin to feel the stinging, burning, and aching of my wounds.
Examining my body I see bruises on my face, neck, and ribs, little cuts decorate my cheeks, lips, and lower legs, closest to my ankles.
A knock raps at the bathroom door and I jump.
“Are you almost done in there?” Wraith asks through the door.
I try to speak but my voice doesn’t seem to want to work so I clear my throat before trying again.
“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m just drying down.
Silence.
Shrugging I continue to dry off before the door opens again and he comes in with a white t-shirt.
He’s shirtless now and it’s hard not to check him out.
I bite my lip as I look at how low his jeans hang on his hips, giving me a little extra glimpse of his V-line, carved to perfection, the tattoos on his skin dance with every movement he makes.
“Here’s your new pajamas.” He says. “I went through your bag and found some clean underwear.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
He moves past me and begins to undo his belt. My cheeks heat and I quickly get dressed and head for the door. Just as I’m about to close it he says,
“Sit on the bed and wait for me to come out the shower so I can take care of your wounds.”
“Oh, that’s okay you don’t have to—”
“Do as I say!” he growls, snapping my spine straight as could be.
“Okay.” I nod.
Closing the door I go to the bed and sit down to wait for him.
Eventually I begin to get antsy so I get up and walk over to the windows to look out at the strip, watching the people enjoy their night out in Sin City.
I stare out the window for so long that I don’t hear or notice Wraith exit the bathroom.
He grabs me by my hips and tosses me on the bed.
“I’m injured, remember?” I joke with a smile, eyeing his bare torso.
Why is he so hot? And why does his pajama pants hang just right on his hips, begging me to rip them off him just so my eyes can drink him in like a tall glass of fine wine.
“I also remember you telling me you can’t feel the pain.” He says, breaking my train of thought.
“Yeah, well now I can... after the shower.” I confess.
“Here, take these.” He says, handing me the bottle of painkillers.
He walks to the minifridge and pulls out a cold bottle of water and hands it to me.
I take the bottle of water and swallow the pill.
Kneeling in front of me he reaches for the bag so he could attend my wounds.
He’s so careful and gentle with me and it’s strange coming from a man like him, all muscular, tattooed, basically a man with such brute force within his body and lifestyle.
He’s currently wiping the cuts on my thighs with an alcohol wipe and I wince and pull my leg back when I feel it start to sting. His eyes find mine immediately.
“That sting?” he asks, voice gentle.
“Just a little.” I shrug.
His gaze travels down to my cut and he lowers his head and kisses the cut. My toes curl at the unexpected kiss and my stomach rolls.
“Stop.” I say.
“Stop what?” he asks.
“I’m fine.” I state.
“I’m not finished yet.” He says. “I don’t want you to catch an infection because of a dirty cut.”
I open my mouth to speak but he shakes his head, shutting me up.
“I’m gonna have to tell my father about what happened here.” He says, continuing to clean the wound.
“Sorry for the damage to the hotel room.” I say, looking at the busted TV and the broken bed. “I know you guys are going to have to pay for that.”
“Yeah.” Is all he says, his attention solely focused on cleaning my cut. “But it’s all good, don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll pay you guys back.” I say.
“Don’t worry about it.” He says.
I’m silent for a moment and he throws the alcohol wipe away. Standing he grabs a pillow and begins to make a bed on the floor.
“You need to get some rest, let your body heal.” He says.
“I can sleep on the floor since I’m the one who broke your bed.” I offer.
“No.” he says matter-of-factly.
I’d argue but it’d be pointless because he’d win and he’d still end up sleeping on the floor which makes me feel bad.
“Are you sure? We can share the bed.”
“No, I’m fine, rest, heal.” He says, plugging in his phone.
He then goes to lay on the floor.
I’m silent for a moment before stating,
“I feel bad, please come up here with me.”
He sighs as if I’m annoying, which I probably am, but I don’t care.
“Can you turn the light off please?” he asks.
Sighing I turn the light off and go to sleep... or at least try to anyway.
“Goodnight.” I say.
“Night.” He rasps.