Chapter 19
Nineteen
Declan
Ispend two days lying in Raven’s bed, barely able to move.
The doctor comes back on the first day, checking the dressings, removing the cannula and taking away the IV, and leaving me warnings to rest. Along with a pair of crutches that lean against the wall, mocking my incapacity.
They’re going to stay there, unused.
My side aches, but my thigh throbs like hell. Getting shot isn’t fun, but being this close to Raven? It’s almost worth it.
She’s a distraction in all the right ways. She brings me homemade chicken soup, moves the TV in on day two, and spends most of the time dressed in nothing but a too-long T-shirt with the occasional hint of panties below.
So much for keeping my blood pressure down.
It’s the diametric opposite of when she stood me up for our Saturday night date, pretended she’d forgotten, then admitted she pulled back because of how close we were getting.
Best of all, I can’t go anywhere else, and I’m right where I want to be: proving to Raven that we can be close.
By Tuesday night, I’m in desperate need of a shower.
Two days I’ve been sweating while I heal, and I can smell my own stink.
The bathroom is across the hall, and I’ve been dependent on her to get me to and from the toilet—not the degree of closeness that I was looking for.
I badly need a wash, and not merely because Raven’s been sleeping in here too. It’s not fair on her.
She’s in the kitchen, making us dinner, but some of my strength has returned, and I can hop-limp if need be, a hand on the wall.
Standing from lying is the hardest part, and I pause for a moment while my blood remembers how to get up to my head.
Then as little weight as possible on my left leg, a hand on the wall. Each step small, steady progress.
I make it to the hallway before Raven notices.
“The hell are you doing, Mister?”
I don’t miss the way she glares at me, while also giving my body an appreciative once-over.
“Taking a shower.” Another step, focused on my destination.
“Now?” She gestures at the range where a large pan simmers. There are smells of cooking meat and savory scents that I was too fixated to notice before, but now that I have, my mouth waters and my stomach rumbles.
“That smells amazing. How long until dinner?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“I can be done in that time.” I hop again, sliding my hand against the wall.
“Oh…!” She gives me an exasperated look, then turns the heat right down. “I suppose this can wait a little bit. It’s just rice and beans with some chicken.”
“Sounds great.” And it does. Another step, trying not to jerk too much.
Then Raven’s there, sliding herself beneath my right arm. “Lean on me, asshole.”
The next step’s easier. “You used to call me ‘Romeo.’”
“That was one night. I decided it didn’t fit.”
She’s not wrong. It didn’t. “So ‘asshole’ is what? A downgrade? An upgrade?”
“Fitting.”
Okay…
We reach the bathroom, and Raven leaves me leaning on the doorjamb to get the shower going. She has a walk-in, thankfully, but there’s still a step to navigate.
That done, she puts her hands on her hips and regards me. It pulls her T-shirt tight, making it clear there’s no bra beneath. “It’s about time we changed your dressings again anyway.”
“What’s wrong with these ones?”
“Not waterproof. The doctor left some that are, but unless it becomes a pain, we’ll just change them when we shower.”
I raise an eyebrow. “‘We’?”
“We. You can’t manage by yourself, can you?”
“I probably can…”
“Stubborn asshole.” She scowls at me. “And before you ask: downgrade.”
I give her a grin for that, and she almost smiles back.
Getting into the shower isn’t elegant, but I manage it with her help.
On a shelf, there’s a selection of products with a strong pink theme, but I don’t really care so long as I’m clean afterwards.
But first, it’s enough to stand under the spray, letting the warm water do its thing.
I brace against the tiles, close my eyes, and push my head right into it.
A bottle top snaps open. I don’t move, but my heart rate picks up.
Her hands run over my shoulders and down my back, slippery with soap, and I can’t help myself; I groan with pleasure.
“That nice?” she asks, voice tinged with amusement.
“Blissful.”
“Good.”
There’s a strong smell of jasmine and a hint of other floral scents, but she can use what she wants so long as she keeps touching me like this.
Raven’s careful around the wound in my left side, then works her way down to my ass. I expect her to stop and let me take over, but she doesn’t. Her hands smooth over my cheeks, squeezing more than is strictly necessary just to get me clean.
Her touch disappears. I still don’t move, wondering if she’s scared herself again with that intimacy, but then her hands return, working shampoo into my hair.
It’s the most sensuous feeling, and somehow more intimate than where her hands just were.
She leans in, her breasts pushing into my back, her wet T-shirt cool against my skin, and sensuous shoots up to sensual.
I’m hard in moments, whatever blood loss I’ve suffered clearly not impeding basic functions.
“Back’s done,” Raven tells me. “Turn around.”
My eyes flick open.
“Uh… might need a second here.”
She’s quiet for a moment, putting two-and-two together, then she sighs.
“Yesterday, the doctor told me that opioid pain killers suppress libido, and reminded me not to do anything strenuous—which wasn’t at all embarrassing, I might add.
But when it comes to you, I should’ve known better, shouldn’t I? ”
“Can’t blame me when you’re half-naked all day, teasing me with your hot little hellcat body.”
“More dressed than you. Turn around.”
I do as she asks, swiveling gracelessly on my leg, and Raven gives one glance down, then focuses intently on the bottle in her hand, pouring more liquid soap into her palm.
She’s using the task to avoid looking at me, but it gives me a moment to admire her. The way her T-shirt now clings to her, half-translucent, nipples pressing prominently against it. The slight tinge of color in her cheeks, a hint of a blush that I so love seeing.
She sets the bottle on the shelf, and her hands press against my chest, running suds up to my shoulders then down to my stomach, her fingertips trailing across my abs.
She bites at her lip in the cutest way, then palms my cock, rubbing it through her soapy hands.
I let out another groan, my legs unsteady, and not from my injuries.
“This bit’s… uh… working,” she murmurs.
“I didn’t get shot there.”
“No.” Her blush intensifies. “Thank God for that.”
“Never been more in agreement with anyone.”
She gives a breathless laugh, then fucking sinks to her knees before me, her face inches from my cock. It takes all my control not to push my hips forward. But she only washes my legs, being ever so careful around my thigh, and she’s done in a minute.
“That’s it,” she says. “You’re clean.”
“Thank you.” The words come out thick, and I clear my throat. “I’m sorry for… making you do this.” And I should be, too. But really, I’m not. Not one little bit.
“It’s fine.” She stands up, not meeting my eyes, and goes for a towel. Her T-shirt is soaked at the front, yet mostly dry at the back. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”
“You did cut all my clothes off.”
A hand flies to her mouth. “Fuck,” she breathes. “I totally forgot to buy any more.”
I chuckle. “Then that’s on you.” At least another day without clothing. With anyone else, I’d be uncomfortable. “I’ll get it done when I’m back in the bed. Do you know where my phone is?”
“In your jacket, I guess.” She goes still. “You’ve gone without your phone for two days.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Yeah?”
“No one you need to call?”
“Why would I?”
“Because you got shot?” She looks at me like I’m strange. “You don’t want to let anyone know you’re okay?”
I shrug a shoulder, then wince as it pulls at my side. “I mean… I am okay, so… I don’t need to tell anyone I’m okay.”
She scoffs in exasperation, finally bringing me the towel. “So not how it works.”
I step out of the shower, using the frame for support, biting back a hiss as that move pulls at my leg. “Pretty sure that is how it works. Wouldn’t you get bored if I called you every day? Hi Raven, still okay. Morning Raven, still alive here.”
“Not as much as you’d think,” she mutters, rubbing the towel down my chest.
“Good.” I lean an inch closer. “I am okay, and it’s all down to you.”
“I didn’t do anything.” She denies it immediately, like I knew she would. But she doesn’t pull back. “Just… what was needed.”
“I’d be dead if I’d gone for the 405,” I say, referring to the escape route we’d originally agreed for me. “Or worse, in a hospital somewhere in a jail.”
“How is that worse?”
I wave a hand. “Walls, you know? I don’t like being caged. I’d rather be dead.” It’s true, even if it wouldn’t have ever happened. Mercer would’ve sorted it out… eventually.
She pauses. “Yeah, I get that. I’m the same.”
I know she is. Chaotic and free-spirited, just like me.
“But the point is, you saved my life.” I take a step toward her, and she backs up, her lip caught between her teeth as she meets my gaze.
“It’s… uh… nothing.”
“Nothing?” I raise a sardonic eyebrow, limping another step.
“I mean… you’re welcome.” She backs into the wall, delightfully flustered, and I put my hand against it, leaning in like I’m bracing myself. What I’m really doing is cornering her.
“It’s nothing to you, it’s a lot to me,” I say, voice low.
“I didn’t mean… nothing.” She swallows, meeting my eyes then glancing away. “Obviously it’s not nothing, it’s absolutely something. No one’s life is nothing, especially not—”