Page 26 of Baja
“Not good enough, Alice. I want the words.”
“I got you, Baja. No more running.”
Satisfied with my answer, Baja leans down and kisses the corner of my mouth. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Standing, he carries me into the bathroom and sits me on the closed toilet. I watch as he kneels beside the bathtub, turns the faucet on, and lets it fill. Without a word, he glances at me briefly before walking out of the bathroom, and I hear the soft creak of the bedroom door opening and closing behind him. A wave of curiosity washes over me—where could he have gone?
Does he expect me to step into the tub, or should I remain here and wait for his return?
He wants to take care of me, so I stay seated. Moments later, Baja reappears, holding a bottle of shampoo, conditioner, and bubble bath, all tucked under one arm. A fresh, plush towel and a soft washcloth are draped over his other arm. I recognize theshampoo brand as one from Belladonna’s, and the scent is one of Sukie’s favorites. He must have gotten it from her.
“Is Sukie still here?” I ask.
“Yes. She and Harlem are staying at the clubhouse tonight. She doesn’t want to be far from you.”
“I should go talk to her,” I suggest. “See if she’s okay.”
Baja shakes his head and crouches in front of me. “I talked to her. I told her I was takin’ care of you. Sukie’s fine. She has Harlem and will be here all night if we need anything.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“You’re welcome, baby,” he replies softly.
Lifting my hand, I brush my palm down Baja’s face. There is no hiding the shadows plaguing him. I see it in his eyes. I’ve yet to ask him what he did to Ricky, and I won’t because I already know the answer.
“What’s your real name?”
“Nash,” he tells me without hesitation.
“Nash,” I whisper softly, letting the name sink in. “I can’t thank you enough for saving me and making me feel safe.”
“From now on, that’s the only name you’ll call me.” He gently grips my neck and rests his forehead against mine. “Nothin’ sweeter than the sound of my name on your lips, baby.” Breaking our connection, Nash leans back. “Arms up, baby.”
I slowly raise my arms above my head and wince at the pain radiating from my side. Nash grips the hem of the shirt, pulls it off, and tosses it to the floor. He then reaches around my back, unclasping my bra. When he holds his hand out, I take it and stand. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of my leggings, he gingerly slides them down over my hips, revealing a large bruise along my right hip bone.
Nash’s gaze zeroes in on the bluish tint against my fair skin, and his face hardens. He’s struggling to rein in his anger, but I see the moment he buries it, and he continues with his task.Once my leggings are off, he tosses them in the growing pile on the floor. There is a moment of hesitation as his fingertips brush the waistband of my panties, and he peers up at me. I nod, giving him permission to his silent question. Nash’s touch is feather light as he draws my panties down my legs.
Never in my life have I felt more vulnerable. It’s taking a lot to step outside my comfort zone. Nash told me earlier he needed to take care of me. I want to give him that. The truth is, I need it, too.
After my bath, Nash dresses me in a pair of his boxers and one of his T-shirts. When we exit the bathroom, he walks over to his dresser, where there is a bottle of pills and a water bottle. Popping the top, he shakes out a single pill and hands it to me. “Juneau said this is for the pain and to help you sleep.”
I take the medicine from him, pop it in my mouth, and then chase it with water.
“Let’s get you in the bed.” Taking my hand, Nash leads me to his bed and pulls back the cover.
I climb in and sigh at the feel of the cool sheets against my heated skin. The second my head hits the pillow, Nash’s familiar scent assaults my senses. My eyelids grow heavy as I watch Nash toe off his boots and shove them into the closet. I can’t help but appreciate his sculpted chest as he slides his cut off and hangs it over the back of the chair. Once he’s stripped of his jeans, he tosses them to the floor.
A heartbeat later, he slides into bed behind me. His strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back against his chest, and I let out a deep sigh, feeling utterly safe in his embrace and the heat of his body feeling like a cozy blanket. I take in his scent with every breath, anchoring me in this moment.
The last thing I hear before the darkness overtakes me is his voice, low and soothing against my ear, as his lips brush my skin, “Sleep, baby.”
I’ve been lying here, wide awake, for what feels like an eternity. The darkness around me is thick, but my mind is far from quiet. It drifts and darts through a maze of thoughts, each more insistent than the last. Yet, the source of my sleeplessness lies inches away—the same man who has occupied my mind for weeks now. Even in his stillness, an electric current hums between us.
I’ve spent countless nights wrestling with my feelings, trying to convince myself that our connection is merely a fleeting attraction and that I’m too old for him. Yet, here I am, caught between desire and reason, trying to ward off the very thing that has the power to awaken both my heart and my fear.
“What are ya thinkin’ about?” Nash’s raspy, sleep-filled voice rumbles against my ear. “Do you want to talk about it?” Nash asks, his tone softening.
I sigh. “No.” Because I don’t. But then I remember my promise to Nash. No more hiding. So, I turn toward him, and his eyes are filled with anticipation, silently pleading for me to share anything. “I’m not good with this sort of thing,” I confess, my vulnerability hanging between us.
