When my eyes leave my cast and fall to his chest, I wince in pain. He’s scabbed over. Looks like road rash. Since he dove across concrete to catch me, he shredded his chest and tore some ligaments in his shoulder. He’s going to most likely need surgery, but we’ll know more when he meets with a specialist next week.
“Creepy,” Win grumbles, his voice thick with sleep.
“What?” I dart my eyes to his, lifting a brow in question.
“You. Watching me. Please don’t tell me this is what I have to look forward to with you in my bed every night.”
I flash him a wicked grin. “Every single night. You chose this life, boyfriend. I was just minding my own business, living my own life, and there you had to go professing your love for me while also heroically saving me from falling to my death.”
“Hmm.”
Leaning forward, I try not to grimace at the tugging of my sore skin beneath the bandage on my neck, and press my lips to his. The fingers on his good hand card through my messy hair stroking me in a possessive way that makes my heart skip a beat.
“Can we stay in bed all day?” I murmur. “Please. I’ll pay you a million dollars.”
He groans. “This is going to go to your head, isn’t it? You don’t even have your supposed fortune and you’re already trying to use it to get what you want.”
“I literally learned that from you. It’s your signature move, Win. Lording your money over the lesser thans.”
“I’m not a lesser than, so don’t insult me.”
“A billion?”
He nips at my bottom lip. “Be quiet.”
“Bazillion?”
“Not a real number.” His grin is roguish. “Besides, you don’t know how much is coming to you. Could be a measly five hundred grand.”
“I’ll just borrow it from you. An IOU.”
“I’m not lending you money to give to me.”
“It’s for a good cause,” I say, teasing his dick with my fingertip through his boxers. “I’d make it worth your while.”
He’s hard, so I know he’s considering it.
Someone bangs on the bedroom door and I let out a shriek, nearly coming out of my skin.
“Francis is almost done with breakfast. Stop humping and get downstairs.”
“Perry,” Win growls. “You have a home. Go there.”
“While you’re on the mend, I’m the Constantine in charge,” Perry booms, all authoritative like he might actually convince someone. “Well, until Mom gets here.”
“Caroline’s coming over?”
“She’ll be here any minute.”
Winston sighs but he doesn’t really seem mad. If anything, there’s a lightness to his expression that wasn’t there before yesterday. He looks at me now like I might vanish, so his eyes linger for longer than they should. Each stare is a lover’s caress that makes me shiver.
“We’ll be right down,” Win calls out to Perry.
He grimaces as he slides out of bed. I hate that he’s in pain because of me but I’m also thankful he cared enough to put himself in harm’s way to save me.
“Stop staring at my ass and get dressed,” he grumbles, his back to me as he opens one of his dresser drawers.
“It’s a lovely ass.”
He tosses sweats at me followed by a T-shirt. Then, he yanks out a pair of sweats for himself. As though he’s not even injured, he uses one hand with an admirable gracefulness to pull the sweats on.
God he’s hot.
Even scraped up and bruised and in a sling.
All the golden, muscled curves of his upper body are on full display. His dick that’s still hard bulges beneath the gray material making my mouth water.
“Move your ass,” he barks out, sounding more like himself than he has since the drama from last night.
He saunters into the bathroom and I can hear the water at the sink turn on. I’m not nearly as graceful as he is while trying to pull on his clothes. They swallow me but they smell like him which makes me happy. This isn’t my best look, but Caroline will just have to deal with it. Once I’m dressed, I make my way into the bathroom where he’s brushing his teeth. I can’t help but grin at his sexy reflection.
“What?” he demands around the toothbrush that’s jammed in his mouth.
“You’re kinda hot right now. Like a bad boy rather than a suit. I’m into it.”
He rolls his eyes and spits. “Do something about your hair, Cinderelliott. It’s criminal.”
Ignoring him, I brush my teeth and then gently wash my face with one hand. When I’m done struggling and wincing against the pain, I notice his irritated expression has morphed into a fierce glower.
He grips my hips and turns me toward him. Intense blue eyes catalogue each bruise on my face. Then, with such a gentleness I nearly sob, he strokes his thumb over my bottom lip.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, making my heart flutter wildly. He moves his thumb along my sore cheek to my jaw. “So mine.”