Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
I wasn’t sure whether he was talking to me or himself.
He repeatedly whispered those sentences, kissing my hair, and eventually I’d drift back off.
But not that night.
I knew that I wouldn’t go back to sleep. That I couldn’t.
“I need to get out of here,” I croaked. My voice was still scratchy, still unrecognizable, but able to form more complete sentences without breaking off.
“A couple more days, baby,” Swiss muttered, voice tight. My nightmares shook him. To the core. As if he wasn’t already shaken up.
He hated the nightmares I had. That he couldn’t chase them off.
“No,” I demanded as firmly as I could in my gravelly voice. “I can’t be here a couple more days. I can’t be here for another moment.” My croaky voice had an edge of hysteria now. I couldn’t help it. I felt hysterical. Like my skin might split open if I didn’t get out of here.
I expected Swiss to try to argue with me. To go all alpha male on me, insisting I stay here on the doctor’s orders.
But Swiss just kissed my head and murmured, “Okay, Countess. Let’s get you out of here.”
Then he got out of bed and created somewhat of a ruckus.
The ruckus didn’t last long. And I was being wheeled out of the hospital room less than an hour later.
When we got to the exit, I pushed out of the chair, with Swiss’s hand in mine, and we walked out of the hospital together.
Chapter Seventeen
Kate
The club was quiet when we walked in. No partygoers, no one sitting at the bar, nothing. But the second I walked into the common room, I relaxed. My gaze landed on the bar area, memories of my last moments there rushing forward. Of Preston, of Swiss and his cold stare, but I quickly shook those off.
I would not let those scarce moments ruin a place that signified so much for me.
A place that was my home.
Swiss was watching me very carefully, his own tortured gaze on the area where he’d been so cruel.
“Let’s go to bed,” I whispered. Sure, there was a part of me that wanted to berate him for his cruelty. How fickle he’d been. How cold. How he’d broken my heart in less than a minute.
An angry, bitter part of me ached to throw all of that at him, hurt him for how he’d hurt me.
This was not the time for that. Besides, there was nothing I could say to Swiss that was worse than what he was repeating to himself.
His gaze lingered for a second longer before we walked down the corridor to his room.
With every step, my pain, though ever present, somehow became duller. Lighter. No more sterile hospital smells, no beeping of monitors or far-off conversations from nurses and doctors.
My body relaxed as Swiss closed the door to his room, and I inhaled the scent of him. Of us. The bed was still mussed from when we’d gotten out of it… A week ago? Two? Before everything happened.
My things were still neatly arranged on top of the dresser, a pair of my jeans thrown over the chair in the corner. Everything was how I’d left it.
My eyes found the hooks attached to the bed, pleasant memories swam through me, filling me with warmth and need.
It had been a long time since Swiss touched me without being cautious, with pure hunger, without worrying about hurting me. Fuck, wanting to hurt me.
Desire pooled at the bottom of my stomach, looking at those hooks, longing to be attached to them by Swiss. But when I looked at the man in question, it became clear that desire was the last thing on his mind.
“Jesus,” Swiss murmured, his eyes moving from the hooks to me. “You let me do those things to you.” His expression was haunted.
Fucking wretched.
“You let me hurt you,” he whispered brokenly. “After years of a man laying his hands on you, I fuckin’ hurt you.”
The pain in his voice cut across my skin.
“Yes, Swiss, I let you do those things to me,” I agreed.
He flinched.
“Listen to me,” I squared my shoulders. “I let you do those things to me. If you remember correctly, I was the one who initiated that.” I tried to make my tone lighter, to coax us back to a time when none of this existed.
It didn’t work. Not in the slightest.
A muscle in Swiss’s jaw twitched.
“Yes, you did. When you thought that you’d get a fuck. A good time. A fuckin’ escape from the shit you’d been living with… Fuck.” He ran his hand over his head in distress. “An escape from everything you’d been living with, not another fuckin’ version of it.”
I raised my brow at him. Or at least I tried to. Such facial expressions weren’t possible with my current injuries.
The pain didn’t bother me in that moment, though. It was the naked emotion on Swiss’s face that did. The guilt. Shame.