“Oh, so we're back to riddles, are we?”
He sighed. “I'm not trying to make things difficult for you. But this is one of those things you'll need to learn for yourself. You need to pull on that little string and unravel it yourself. Because if I just tell you, you won't believe me.”
“Try me.”
“If you want to talk after you’ve looked at it, you know how to reach me.”
“How? I don’t have your number.”
He grinned. “No, you don’t. But I’ll reach out to you. How’s that?”
Before I could think of anything else to say, he stalked calmly out of my room as if he wasn’t one of the most wanted men in the whole world.
East
To be fair, I hadn't really thought it through when I told Nyla I was the one who was going to be taking care of her. The taking-care-of-her part wasn't hard. I wanted to take care of her. And it went far beyond guilt or concern. I was pretty certain I loved her. I didn't want anyone else being the one to help her get better.
No. What I’d underestimated was Nyla's pure stubbornness.
But you knew she was stubborn.
I did, but not like this. For starters, I couldn't keep her in bed.
Every time I turned around, there she was, climbing out of bed because she needed something, or she wanted her laptop, or she couldn't find her phone and maybe it was out in the living room, or she was bored by staying in the bedroom.
And it was only day three. She'd been discharged two days after the surgery, and she was already doing much better. We only really needed to change her bandages and make sure she wasn’t overdoing it. Another few days, and we wouldn't need to do that anymore. But she did have to go back to the hospital to get her stitches out. So far, she'd managed with a sponge bath and a soak to keep everything nice and dry, but I could tell she was desperate for a shower because she kept looking longingly at the showerhead every time I helped her into the loo.
The latest point of contention was when I came out of my office to find her trying to climb up onto the countertop to reach something. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"I want a bowl."
"Yes, the bowls are right there. At reachable levels."
She frowned. "I want a big bowl for popcorn."
I stared at her. "Popcorn?"
She nodded. "You know, you can make it on the stove or in the microwave. It's delicious."
I sighed and glared at her. "Is there a reason you didn't call me?"
"Well, I figured you were busy. Plus, I can reach it. It's just a bowl."
"Nyla, you were trying to climb on the counter."
Her brow furrowed. "Look, I'm not good at being a prisoner. I just want to be able to do things for myself."
"And you will be able to. Just not yet. You just got out of the hospital."
"Because you shot me."
I threw my hands up. "Jesus. You shoot someone one time, and they never let you forget."
"For the love of Christ, of course I will never forget. You shot me."
I knew I shouldn't react, but my lip began twitching before I knew what was happening. She stomped her foot, but I couldn't help it. The laugh started as a low grumble, deep in the center of my chest. I hoped that maybe she wouldn't notice, but of course she did, and she went still and lifted a brow. Then she threw the pack of popcorn at me as she reached for another packet, and I ducked.
I charged at her quickly, because I knew that if she got going, other things were going to get thrown too. "Nyla Kincade, put the popcorn down."
She reached for the spatula next. Even as I scooped her up gently and put her over my shoulder, she whacked my arse with the spatula. "Put me down, you overgrown wanker. You're such an oaf."
"Well, oaf implies that I'm big, so I'll take it."
"Only you would figure out how to turn that into a compliment. Have I mentioned that I hate you?"
"More than once. Again, I'm sorry you feel that way. I care about you very much."
"Well, I do not care about you right now."
"Nyla, come on, behave yourself."
But instead of behaving herself, she whacked me harder. The sting surprised me enough that I stopped and went stock-still. I glanced down, and my cock was hard. Excellent. The more she struggled in my arms, rubbing against me, the more I was reminded that I couldn’t have her right now.
"Nyla, if you want to start those games, we can. It's not usually my thing, but I am more than happy to spank you. I think I owe you one anyway," I ground out.
The little tremor in her body told me that she didn't hate the idea, but she was injured, so we weren't doing any of that. At least not for another few days when the doctor said she could go without the sling.
"You wouldn't dare." Her voice was a shocked whisper.
"If I think it will get you off, I will absolutely go there." My brain offered up all the helpful images it could of Nyla with her arse up in the air, her beautiful bronze skin begging for my touch.
"You are such an impossible—"
I flipped her body up, bracing her on one arm so that I could ease her down onto the bed. "You were saying, my love?"
I let her body slide down over the ridges of mine and waited to see if she could find a single thing to say.
"I— I don't like this," she said on a breathless whisper.
I laughed. "I know. And I'm sorry that you're in this situation because of me. I really am. Hell, even I think I'm a wanker. But right now, I just really need you to cooperate with me. Please."
"I will not cooperate. I can't lay here in bed letting you just take care of me. I hate it."
"I know. You're not a woman who wants to be looked after. I get that. I also get that I fucked up. These things happen. I should have found another way to get you out of that situation at the Jameson estate.”
"I swear to God, East, when I recover, you are in so much trouble."
"I'll look forward to that. In the meantime, stay here and text me if you need something. You know what, fuck that. Hold on." I jogged back to the kitchen, grabbed her popcorn, stuck it in the microwave, and then went into the office and grabbed my laptop and my phone.
Despite her protests, I'd put her in my room to recuperate. I rarely worked in my bedroom. I liked to keep a nice separation so that on the nights when I couldn’t sleep, I wouldn't associate the bedroom with an office.
Once I settled my things on the desk by the window, I went back for the popcorn. I seasoned it just how she liked it. Very little butter, but a sprinkle of both salt and sugar. The sweet-salty combination was amazing. Then I brought the massive bowl back into the bedroom with several napkins. "For my lady."
She perked up as soon as the scent of popcorn hit her nostrils, and she inhaled deep. "Why are you doing all of this?"
"Because I broke you, so I’m going to mend you. And you matter to me. I don't know how long it's going to take for you to hear me when I say that, so I'm going to keep saying it. I'm sorry I had to shoot you. Now, eat your popcorn. Read your book. I'm going to work now."