Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80014 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80014 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Right in time to get shot. I’m so fucking sorry that happened to you.”
“That wasn’t your fault, and you don’t need to apologize.”
“Yes, it was. If I’d stood up to Greco in the first place, instead of retreating to San Francisco—”
“Then you’d probably be dead now.”
I could tell this was upsetting him, so I let the subject drop. I’d handle Greco on my own, and the less Jack knew about it, the better. I didn’t want him to get implicated in…
What exactly?
A murder?
Was I willing to go that far to make sure Greco never harmed my loved ones again?
Would anything short of that actually stop him?
20
Jack
Adriano brought us a huge breakfast, and somehow between the two of us we actually managed to polish it off. After we ate, he said, “I’d like to give you a bath. I know that must sound odd, but I have this overwhelming urge to take care of you. So, will you just go with it?”
Normally, I’d insist I was fine and didn’t need him to take care of me, but this seemed important to him. Besides, I really wasn’t okay. That rescue mission right on the heels of getting injured had taken a lot out of me—not that I would have done a single thing differently.
When I agreed, he moved the breakfast tray to the dresser and hurried to fill the tub. He came back a few minutes later and carefully wrapped my injured upper arm in a hand towel to keep it dry. Then he picked me up and brought me into the bathroom.
After he carefully lowered me into the warm water, I rested my arm on the edge of the tub and exhaled slowly. It seemed like overkill when he soaped up his hands and went to wash me. I wasn’t that injured. But then he began to rub my shoulders, and I muttered, “Okay, this I can do.”
“Hmm?”
I hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud, but I told him, “I thought it might be awkward—letting you scrub me down like a dog at a grooming parlor. But this is nice.”
He chuckled at that and pushed his hair out of his eyes with his forearm before going back to what he was doing. I groaned with pleasure as his strong hands began kneading a knot of tension. “That right there, that’s magical,” I murmured, as my eyes slid shut.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it. I only have one question.”
“What’s that?”
I raised a lid and asked, “Why are you out there, and not in here with me?”
“Two reasons,” he said, as he kept up the massage. “First, it’s a small tub, and I’m a big guy. If I got in there with you, there wouldn’t be any room for the water.”
“You’d fit just fine. What’s your other flimsy excuse?”
He ran his knuckles along my jaw and met my gaze. “You’re the most tempting, irresistible man I’ve ever met, Jack. Getting in that tub with you and feeling your wet, naked body against mine would turn me on, but since we probably both have concussions, we need to abstain from sex for a few days while we heal and recover.”
I frowned at that and asked, “Who says?”
“Most doctors, probably.”
“Well, what do they know?”
“A lot.”
I knew he was right, but I pouted anyway. Finally, I said, “Okay, fine. No sex for twenty-four hours.”
“Try a week.”
“That can’t be right. Sex is good for you. It’ll only help the healing process!” He grinned and shook his head. “I want actual scientific evidence,” I said. “Clinical trials and double-blind studies with conclusive evidence that it’s actually bad for you to do it with a concussion.”
He gently traced my chin with a fingertip as he said, “There’s no way you feel well enough for sex right now.”
“Well no, not right this minute. But I will in a day or two, not a week.”
“Let’s just take it day by day and see how it goes.”
“It’s annoying how you’re all mature and right about things.” He smiled at me, and I asked, “So, what’re we supposed to do in the meantime? Die of blue balls?”
“I can stand it if you can,” he said. “And just think how much fun it’ll be once we both feel better and can finally have sex again, without a pounding headache and countless aches and pains.”
I looked at him closely and said, “You feel as bad as I do right now, don’t you?”
“No. I wasn’t shot.”
“But you were knocked out, probably beat up, and then held hostage in an overheated garage. That didn’t do you any favors.”
I pulled the plug and started to climb out of the tub, and he asked, “What are you doing?”
“Switching with you,” I said. “You need this more than I do.”
He plugged the drain again and gently restrained me with a hand on my chest. Then he ran more warm water into the tub and told me, “Just relax, Jack, at least for a few minutes.”