Page 181 of SINS & Riley
Zver’s.
I already spoke with Dominic. Plans are underway to renovate everything. I want it perfect by the time we return. Dominic does too. Especially since Babushka and the kids are due back this weekend.
God, I’m aching to see them.
But not as much as I ache to see my man.
Dillon stops at the last door. Two men stand flanking it, Glocks at the ready. The sight kind of pisses me off.
“Why the hell do you have guards on him?”
“He’s not exactly the best patient.”
“Ah.” I nod. I can totally see that about him.
“I’ll be across the hall in the library,” Dillon says, as he opens the door for me.
I nod, throat tight.
And there he is.
Zver.
My chest cracks wide open as I take him in.
His muscles are tight, body rigid, the kind of coiled tension that screams pain even in sleep. The bedding hides nothing—he’s half-naked beneath it. Chest bare. One shoulder strapped in layers of fresh bandages. An IV snakes from his arm.
And the beard that felt like heaven scraping between my thighs, it’s gone. Shaved clean off.
But the mask is still there. And behind it, so is he. I know it.
Tears burn, but I force them back. I won’t let him see fear.
Only love.
Love—and the unspoken promise that I’ll care for him.
Tend to him.
His Grey’s Anatomy naughty nurse. His ride-or-die. Always. Till death do us part.
Never mind that I faint at needles, gag at blood, and have zero tolerance for anything involving bodily fluids. Motherhood’s coming at me like an earth-ending comet.
So toughen up, buttercup.
I breathe deep and edge closer, tiptoeing like I’m moving across cracked ice.
Finally, I sink into the chair beside his bed, and drink him in.
I want to ask why he’s still wearing his mask.
Because—oh God—what if he’s all Phantom of the Opera underneath. Horribly scarred.
Not that it would matter. It’s been a recurring fantasy ever since I read the book. No qualms here.
And then… his eyes.
Blue. Startling. Not the pitch black I’ve lost myself in more times than I can count.
