Page 69 of The Verdict

“Handled him? You almost bled out in my arms! Jesus Christ, Merritt, the man almost gutted you, and you just want me to let you go? It’s my fucking fault you almost died the first time—” He broke off with a sharp inhale, raw pain—real pain—bleeding into his tone. “I won’t put you back in harm’s way.”

I won’t put you in harm’s way either,I wanted to say but couldn’t, and that was my burden to bear.

“It’s not your fault.” I placed my hand on the flat of his chest, the muscles jumping under my touch. Of all the things I wanted—no, I needed him to believe—this was the most important.

“I should’ve been there—should’ve stopped him.”

“Rhys…” I inched closer, and like I’d stepped through an invisible wall, he tensed and then moved back, letting my hand fall to my side.

“Let me check your wound.”

I inhaled long and slow, and then exhaled the last of my patience in a whoosh.

“Okay.” Without prelude, I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it completely over my head, letting it land on the floor, the thud much softer than the sudden rush of his breath.

His eyes devoured me from shoulders to stomach, lingering on my bare chest where my nipples poked against the fabric of my bra. The ache in my stomach churned to life, fueled by the hunger in his stare. Maybe his glower fooled everyone else, but I saw the heat buried underneath. A possessive ember in the angry ash. He might be furious with me—distrust me—but his body wouldn’t lie about how much he wanted me.

“Well?”

The muscle in his jaw thumped as his big hands spannedmy rib cage. I shivered. So close to where my breasts swelled and ached. So close to a touch that was waiting to be freed.

“Rhys…”

“Don’t move,” he said raggedly, unable to hide the effect it had on him.

His fingers moved to find the edge of the bandage. I always noticed the careful way he removed the tape, putting pressure where the adhesive started to pull on my skin.He always had to be the one to do this: check the wound and replace the bandage.

“How does it feel?” The concern in his voice was genuine.

“Sore.” I shivered as his fingers traced the perimeter of the purpled, injured flesh. “Tight.”

He made a low noise that seemed stuffed with pain, and my eyes dropped from his hands on my injury to lower between us where the front of his pants strained.

“But better,” I added, my voice cracking.

His palm slid to my waist, holding there like he didn’t know how to let go before he rasped,“This is my fault.”

Air plummeted into my lungs. “Oh? You were the one who stabbed me?”

Rhys sighed and tipped his head up. “I was right there—feet away from you. I said I’d protect you. I swore I’d?—”

“I didn’t ask you to protect me, Rhys. I was the one who left—who chose to leave.”

More pain steeled his expression. “Which is why I need to keep you closer.” His hold tightened almost imperceptibly, wanting to pull me closer but fighting to keep me away.

I hiccupped, heat pooling in my cheeks as his words messed with my head—with my resolve. I wanted to be closer. I wantedto feel the magnetic heat of his touch as it drew the deepest parts of me out of their shell.

“Rhys… I’m a liar and a thief.”The words were so quiet, they should’ve been classified as a caress.

It was the truth…all of it that I could spare.

“Maybe.” He straightened, but his head remained close to mine, the rush of his breath reaching for my cheek with a heated, audible hiss. “But you’re my liar and my thief.”

No.My knees shook. They were the most dangerous words I’d ever heard, and the most dangerous words he’d ever said. Because no matter how we tried to stay apart from each other, we always found our way back here.

“I need to shower,” I said, abruptly changing the conversation and pretending like that was the reason for the dizziness in my head.Four days of sponge baths from the sink, and I was ready for a hot shower.“I haven’t washed my hair in… I don’t even want to think about it.”

He stilled, concern steeping his gaze.

---