Page 20 of Protect Me
Seconds later, the door is ripped open, the lock breaking and the wood splintering as Killian shoves his way into the bathroom.
“Shit, what the hell did you do?”
I decide to let the question be rhetorical since I can’t speak around the pain pulsing through me from hip to feet.
“Dammit, Sway.” Killian reaches down and scoops me into his arms.
It isn’t until I feel his palms against my exposed flesh that I realize my towel slipped off when I fell. Of course it did. Dammit. This is exactly what I’d tried to avoid. Now, thanks to the pain in my hip, I can’t do anything to stop it.
“Easy now.” Killian carries me back into the bedroom and lowers me to the bed.
The moment I’m in it, I reach for the covers, but he stops me.
“Hold on, let me see that bruise.”
I ignore him, attempting again to pull the covers up, but he grabs my wrist, stilling me as he peers more closely at the new bruise blooming against an old one right along my hipbone.
“What are you, my doctor now?” I snap.
“If I were, I would have stopped you from taking that damned shower in the first place.”
“I don’t take orders from you.”
He ignores that and brushes a fingertip over my skin along the edges of my aching hip. His touch draws a shudder from me, and even with the pain in my body, warmth pools in my belly.
“Did a number on yourself, didn’t you?” he murmurs.
“The damned tile was slippery,” I say, fully aware I’m taking my anger at myself out on him.
He looks up at me, a brow arched. “That’s what happens when you get wet.”
My skin burns at his words. And I don’t miss the way Killian’s eyes rake over me, taking all of me in with a single, sweeping glance. My nipples pebble at the awareness just as he finally lets go of my wrist. The moment he does, I pull the covers over me, wincing with the movement.
Frustrated, aching, hurting, I sink against the pillow and shut my eyes. Maybe it’s all a bad dream. A hallucination from that stupid tea. Maybe I can just wait until the effects wear off and then wake up and find it’s all just—
The mattress shifts as he sits on the edge of the bed beside me, so close his hip is pressed against my thigh. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
His tone is unexpectedly gentle and absent of his usual teasing or mockery.
I crack my eyes open. “Easy for you to say. You weren’t found spread-eagle and helpless.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll take my clothes off and go lie on the tile so you can look at me. Will that make us even?”
My lips twitch even as a small voice in my mind screams ‘Yes.’ I shake my head. “Don’t make jokes.”
“Why not? Laughing is good for the soul. And you’re brilliantly gorgeous when you smile.”
I scowl. “Stop flirting. It won’t work.”
“That’s yet to be determined.”
I don’t know what that means, but before I can ask, he nods at a stack of clothing folded on the dresser. “That’s for you. Whenever you’re ready for them, I’ll bring them over. For now,” he adds pointedly, “I advise staying in bed.” He picks up the tea and shoves the now-cool mug into my hands. “And finishing this.”
I sigh. “I guess I don’t have much room for argument.”
“Not a bit. Drink up, love.”
When I don’t move, his expression hardens. “If you don’t, my brothers and I can take turns monitoring you frominsideyour room. That way, we can walk you to the bathroom ourselves next time. We’ll probably fight over which one of us gets to wrap the towel around you, and you should know I’m clumsy enough to drop it from time to time.”