Page 90 of Make Me A Sinner
“We’re much stronger than you give us credit for—even with a bullet hole in us. But you should rest, or at least get on a more comfortable chair. Come on. I had the housekeeper set up a spare bedroom for you.”
“I’m not sleepy,” I lie, even though my eyes are literally closing—coffee and all. I just don’t want to miss the opportunity to get next to Set.
“Then don’t sleep. Watch TV or something, but at least stay in bed or the armchair. I might know how to patch up gods, but people? That’s a different deal. If you pass out on me, your ass is going straight to the hospital.” Draco doesn’t give me time to answer, just heads to the spare bedroom, and I follow, knowinghe’s got a point. Getting myself put into the hospital is the worst thing I can do right now.
“Phro left you some clothes,” he gestures towards the bed where a neat little stack of clothes waits—then leaves the room.
Well, that’s a relief because I’m still in the clothes I wore to the club, and they’re stained with Set’s blood. Plus, I haven’t showered ever since. I’m basically a walking crime scene.
As I dig through the pile, I realise there are only dresses. Not that I expect anything else because she doesn’t strike me as a pants kind of girl.
I appreciate the gesture more than she probably realizes. And since I finally have clean clothes, I hit the shower and let the water run over me for a long time before I actually feel clean. Too tired to even stand, I return to the room and pick the least elegant dress from the pile—white with a gold cord at the waist. Fittingly, it really looks like something Aphrodite herself would wear.
I turn on the TV as I crawl into bed. Not even sure what channel I landed on. Doesn’t even matter. I’m out cold before the first commercial break ends.
I’m not sure how long I slept, but when I wake, Set’s lying next to me. My eyes quickly open to check if we’re in the same room—which we are. That only means he came here to sleep next to me. God, this man is so stubborn, walking around with a damn bullet wound. I could give him a piece of my mind right now, but I let him rest. There’s plenty of time to do that. And by the time he wakes up, I've even forgotten why I was mad at him.
He sleeps for a day and a half. Yeah... an actual day and a half. I don’t even know how that’s possible without actually being in a coma, but I guess his body has a different rate of recovery than our own.
I spend the time meeting a part of my new family. None of them are too welcoming, and none of them have great humanskills, but strangely, they’re all protective—treating me like I’ll shatter if someone even breathes wrong. I can’t blame them, though, since they have immortality on their side.
It’s a thought that’s been haunting me lately. Ever since I found out about Set not being human. No matter how much he cares for me, he can’t grow old beside me. While my body will break down in time, his stays untouched. And while for me it might be my lifetime, for him it’s just a moment in his eternity. I try not to dwell on it, but this will be an issue sooner or later.
I just returned to the bedroom after having dinner with Phro and Draco. Whiro had to leave, and so did most of the entities who came to visit Set, a.k.a. his siblings.
I glance around the room as I open the door and step inside. He’s not in bed, and as I listen carefully, I can hear the shower running.
I’m surprised he’s already well enough to shower, but as the bathroom door opens and he steps out with just a white towel around his waist, I realize his wound is healing way faster than I expected. It’s almost closed, and that makes my eyes drift away from the wound and down to the hard bulge hiding beneath the towel. “You’re looking a lot better,” I say with a large smile, silently thanking God—not that I’d ever say it out loud because I would never hear the end of it from Set.
“Iama lot better,” he smiles back, though I don’t really like the inflection in his voice.
“Do you want me to help you put some clothes on?” I ask, looking at him walking straight to me.
He gives a subtle shake of his head—a no—and I recognize something totally devious in his gaze. “Set,” I warn, feeling he’s about to do something reckless, but his direction doesn’t shift. That makes me jump up on the bed, scramble across, and stop next to the window.
He chuckles, quickly changing directions and appearing in front of me before I can react. “Set, no!” I warn, seeing the unmistakable rise of his towel. “You just got out of bed. This isn’t the right time for this.”
“It’s always the right time forthis,” he murmurs, closing in the distance until I’m trapped, caged between the window and the cushioned bench, tucked beneath the tall pane of glass.
“Are you out of your mind? You’re still hurt.”
“I’ll get over it,” he says, already making room between my legs. “And I have the perfect way to speed up my healing.” His hands glide slowly up my thighs, his fingertips brushing my skin and causing pure delirium.
He reaches the top of my thighs but pauses. There’s no material between his fingers and my sensitive skin. “No panties? Maybe I should get shot more often.”
“I didn’t pack spare underwear to the club, and I just washed the pair I had on,” I explain before he’s the one asking questions. “It’s not like this was a planned road trip.”
“Saves me the trouble,” he whispers dangerously low, just as he leans in, his lips ghosting over mine, while he’s already positioning me against him. I don’t get to protest before his towel slips, and he also slips inside of me. At least the height of the window bench saves him some of the effort. And he uses this leverage as best as he can, pressing me against the cold glass, his hips rolling forward until he’s fully seated inside me. I just pray his madness won’t kill him.
“Slow,” I breathe, hoping to hold him back, pressing my palms against his chest until I can feel the heat of his wound.
Not that it’s working. “This isn’t what you asked for last time.”
“You didn’t have a bullet wound last time,” I whimper, as he drives so deep, it nearly knocks the words out of me.
“The pain just makes me want to fuck you harder,” he breathes, hips moving like they’re sole goal is to break me.
And each one of his thrusts does just that, wrecking every nerve, claiming every inch of my core.
