Damien
“Damn it!” I curse after checking my phone. It’s been a week since that unbelievable night at the lake with Tinsley, and I know she said she needed space, but I didn’t think that meant cutting me off altogether. The fact that she needs time to learn to trust me again is understandable, and I expected it. She has every right to be scared and stand-offish, but how can I earn her trust if she completely avoids me? I need the chance to prove to her that I won’t do anything to break her heart again. I’m no longer that stupid teenage boy. I’m a grown man who knows not to let a good thing slip through my fingers a second time. The fact that she’s back here and I have this second chance is a miracle.
“Who pissed in your cheerios?” Dahlia asks as she sits on the stool next to me. I look over to her, taking in the light bruising still on her face. She thankfully made a full recovery and continues to heal more and more each day. The first couple weeks she was home were difficult for all of us, but she’s a fighter. Although…it would have been nice if the surgeons could have removed her sass gene.
“No one.”
“Still haven’t heard back from Tinsley?” I just shake my head. “Why don’t you just go over to her house and demand to talk to her?”
“She said she needed some time. I don’t want to push her away any further,” I tell her, even though I was thinking of doing just that. I’d like nothing more than to stomp over there and make her talk to me, but I’m afraid it would only make things worse and shut her down completely.
“You love her, and she loves you. Show her how much you want her,” she states with a shrug. “If it were me, I’d think it was romantic.”
“Do you really think that would be romantic? Me going over and demanding she talk to me?” Are women really attracted to the whole alpha male thing? I thought they like to be equals and independent.
“I do. Go get your girl,” Dahlia says, pointing toward the door. I grab my keys off the counter, kiss Dahlia on the forehead, and head for the door.
Pulling into Tinsley’s driveway, I park behind her car. The entire drive over, I rehearsed what I’m going to say in my head, though it didn’t do much good. I still have no idea what the hell I’m going to say and my nerves kick into overdrive as I step foot on her front porch. Before ringing the bell, I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and take a deep breath. My hand shaking, I press the doorbell, step back, and wait. After a few minutes, I ring it again and walk to the end of the porch to peek through the window.
The back door is wide open, but there’s no one within the house that I can see. My brow furrows as concern starts to build, but I push it back, not wanting to jump to any conclusions. It’s not like I can see every room in the house from that window. Running up the back steps, I peer around, taking in the knocked over end table and broken glass on the floor. Worry grips my chest and my arm shoots out to knock on the open door as I call, “Tinsley?”
I pause, waiting for a response before moving forward with caution. “Tinsley,” I call out again, stepping into the living room. There are no lights on and the house is eerily quiet. Slipping my hand up my jeans, I reach into the holster around my calf, pulling out my off-duty weapon, my heart pounding in my chest as every terrible scenario I can imagine runs through my head.
When nothing looks out of place, I continue to the stairs and halt. Another table is laying on its side and other furniture is out of place. A moan sounds, snapping me into action. With my gun gripped in one hand, I rush up the stairs and push open her bedroom door. Panic floods through me as I drop to my knees, rushing to where Tinsley is curled into a ball in the middle of her bedroom. A putrid stench permeates the air around me as I place my hand on her shoulder in an attempt to roll her on her back. The instant my hand touches her, she flinches away and moans again.
“Tin? Baby? What’s wrong?”
“Sick,” she mumbles. I hover my hand over her forehead and heat hits my palm.
“You’re burning up. I need to get you in a warm bath. Can you walk?” She shakes her head no. After holstering my gun, I lift her into my arms and she cries out in pain. The heat from her body sizzles against my cooler skin.
“Please don’t. I couldn’t make it to the bathroom and threw up on myself. It’s so gross,” she whimpers.
“It’s okay, Tin. Seeing you naked will make up for it,” I laugh. She lets out a small groan and mumbles something that sounds like, “Not like you haven’t seen it before.” I set her down on the toilet and she sways. Holding her steady with one hand, I use the other to run the bath. “Ready?” I ask, turning back to face her. Her cheeks are beet red, though I’m not sure whether it’s from the fever or the fact that she’s about to get naked in front of me. She inhales a deep, shaky breath and nods her head, but groans again as she pales.
“Are you okay? Gonna be sick again?” I ask, steadying her.
“No…I don’t think so,” she mumbles, pushing all her weight onto me as her eyes slip closed.
“Okay. I’m going to take your clothes off now. Don’t worry, I’ll try to keep my hands to myself,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
Something between a gurgle and a groan leaves her lips, but she smiles just a touch. Taking the bottom of her shirt in my hands, I carefully pull it over her head and drop it to the floor next to me. My eyes widen as her breasts come into view, but I avert my gaze, cursing myself for being so insensitive. She’s sick and doesn’t need me fawning and drooling all over her. This is not the time to be thinking with my dick.
Next, I pull off her yoga pants and stifle a groan at the absence of panties. Get it together, you moron. She needs you to take care of her. With as much ease as possible, I lift her up and place her in the tub. When the water hits her skin, she sighs. “I’m going to go get a change of clothes from my car and grab you some Tylenol,” I say while turning off the water.
After grabbing my clothes from my car and taking the fastest shower in history, I find the Tylenol and go back upstairs to Tinsley. When I walk into the room, my breath catches. Even sick, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I try to keep my eyes trained on her face, but my eyes wander down her body of their own accord and I curse myself for being such a pig. Her eyes flutter open and a small smile plays on her perfectly pink lips. I return it, thankful she didn’t catch me gawking.
Grabbing a cup off the sink, I fill it with water and hand her the Tylenol and chaser.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice hoarse. After she washes down the pills, I take the cup and place it back on the sink.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by the flu truck. Everything aches, but at least I’m no longer throwing up,” she says. Reaching over, I place my palm on her forehead and nod as I close my eyes. The bath has helped.
“Let me wash your hair before the water gets too cold.” She looks at me with hesitant eyes before reaching up and lifting a strand of her hair to her nose.
“That’s probably a good idea,” she says, cringing.
Pulling the bottle of shampoo from the shelf, I squirt some in my hand. Tinsley leans forward and turns so I can reach her, her movements slow and a little jerky. I massage the shampoo in her hair. A soft moan escapes her, and I instantly harden.
My God! What’s wrong with me?
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, reminding myself yet again I am here to take care of her. My fingers continue to rub against her scalp and down the length of her hair until I’m satisfied there’s no more vomit. Normally, I have a weak stomach when it comes to this type of thing, and I’m not sure whether it’s being a dad or the fact that I’d do anything for Tinsley keeping me even keeled. Turning on the hand sprayer, I check the temperature, then begin to rinse the suds from her hair before repeating the process with conditioner.
Helping her stand, I grab a towel from the rack and wrap it around her. The entire time, I keep my eyes trained on her face so they don’t peruse her tempting naked body. She’s able to step out of the tub with minimal help, but once her feet are on the bathmat, she wobbles a bit. Not wanting her to fall, I pick her up and carry her to bed. I don’t bother trying to dress her before laying her down and pulling the blanket over her.
“You scared the hell out of me, Tin,” I admit while taking a seat next to her on the bed.
“I’m sorry. One minute I was writing, and the next, I wanted to die. I never realized I was getting sick,” she says as a shiver passes through her. Standing, I walk to the chair in the corner, pull the throw blanket from it, then drape it over her.
“Better?” I ask, and she nods. “How about I make you some soup?” She nods again as her eyes flutter closed. Leaning down, I place a kiss on her still warm forehead.