I had to get a grip.
My entire body was pumped up on adrenaline and pain. That fight had been over too quickly, and all that built-up tension needed release. If not through my fists…
“Sit,” Cordelia ordered and pointed at the edge of her tub. I did as she said, only to be rewarded with another prime view when she bent down to grab her first aid basket from under the sink. Those flimsy shorts were way too tight over her ass when she bowed like that.
I had to adjust my sweats. They left little to the imagination anyway, but fuck.
“Hold still.” Cordelia started carefully dabbing at my face, and I barely felt a thing, concentrating on keeping my breathing even. “What happened?” Her hand trembled, holding the bloody gauze.
“I was in a fight.”
“What? With who?”
“Not like that. I was ina fight. It was on TV for fuck’s sake.” My harsh tone had nothing to do with her question and everything to do with the fact that I’d been keeping a secret, and now she was parading around in front of me in these scraps of fabric - and I was too fucked in the head to form a coherent thought.
“I thought you’d quit,” Cordelia whispered, hand hovering.
“I had.”
“That’s what you’ve been training for all this time. You said you weren’t doing anything dangerous. You lied to me.” Her voice cracked, her eyes taking on a dangerous sheen. Fuck.
“I didn’t want you to worry. I’m fine. I’m being careful.” Maybe I should have told her about Paris. About the very real chance that Emanuel Silver would land the blow to my head that would finally rattle my brain enough to take me out.
“Victor, you can keep secrets from me, but you can’t lie to me about your safety.”
“Can we not talk about that right now?” I blinked up at her, the swollen eye blurring half of her into a kaleidoscope of pink and blonde.
“Fine, you’re getting a pass for today.” She dabbed a fresh piece of gauze against the cut on my cheek and I hissed and jerked away from the sharp sting of alcohol.
“You did that on purpose.”
“I did,” she chirped. “Sorry not sorry.”
“Fuck you,” I grunted, and I would have immediately regretted the words if she hadn’t giggled.
“Not tonight.” She pressed another piece of cotton against my split lip, the sharp scent of alcohol and the sting almost enough to knock me out.
For fuck’s sake. She was enjoying this.
“Stop being a bitch,” I huffed.
“Stop treating me like I need to be delicately handled.” She fluttered her lashes at me and pressed another piece of alcohol-drenched gauze right into the cut on my brow.
I didn’t flinch this time. I kept my eyes squarely on hers.
We stared at each other, the air between us crackling with unspoken truths. It was too much tension. In my veins. In the stern set of her jaw. In the room. And it had to go somewhere or we’d implode before we’d even started.
“Kneel down, Cordelia.”
“What?”
“On your knees.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, that angry storm flashing in them, but she sank to her knees right in front of me. Doing exactly what she was told. Fuck if that wasn’t the hottest thing I’d ever seen. “If this is your idea of-“
“Shut up and put your hands behind your back.” Her nostrils flared but, again, she did as she was told. I freed my growing erection from my pants and watched her lips tremble as her eyes raked over it. I fisted my dick, a few drops of precum already there for her tongue. “Open that feisty little mouth for me.”
She parted her lips - but barely enough.