Page 50 of Together We Burn
I found a bowl, filled it with water for Rocky, and tried, then failed, to remove my shirt.
Joining her in the bathroom, she dropped the items into the sink and faced me.
“It’s maybe best if you straddle it,” she said, closing the lid of the toilet and collecting a pair of scissors from her pile. I lowered myself down, and she began cutting up my shirt, revealing my back, giving her access to my wound.
Pulling the bottle of vodka from the basin, she unscrewed it and poured some of the liquid across my shoulder blade and over the metal shard. I hissed as it burned, savouring the pain. Because at this moment, what she was doing for me was exactly what I should have done when Emilia pushed that knife into Stefany’s leg.
She stretched over my shoulder and placed the bottle on the ledge above the sink. I twisted, ignoring the tightness of my skin as I moved to face her. Her eyes searched mine as I clasped my hand around the back of her neck and traced her jaw with my thumb.
“I’m sorry, Stefany,” I whispered, voicing the words I should have said long before now. The ones I should have forced her to listen to sooner. Her brows dipped, and I reached up to trace the scar cut diagonally across her left one. “I’m so fucking sorry for everything that happened with Emilia. With us.”
Her lips parted, but she didn't speak. Anguish appeared on her beautiful face, her jaw set tight as she regarded me. My hold on the nape of her neck tightened, refusing to let her look away like she usually would when things got too intense between us.
We stayed there, looking at each other, neither of us sure what to say to break the silence, neither of us sure how to move forward. Stefany cleared her throat, swatting my hand away, and turned to the sink to pull a wooden spoon and a hand towel from the bowl.
“Bite down on this,” she said, handing me the spoon and twirling her finger in a circular motion. Reluctantly, I faced the mirror on the wall and looked into the bright blue eyes of the only girl I’d ever get metal impaled in my back for.
“Are you ready?” she asked, putting one hand on my shoulder and the other gripping the large bit of shrapnel. I nodded. “After three, okay?”
I winced as she grimaced, closing her eyes briefly, then cleared her throat again. Looking back to the mirror, I nodded when our eyes met and braced myself for her to start counting. A scream tore from my lips as she pulled the metal straight out of my back without ceremony.
“What the fuck happened to one, two, or three?” I groaned, still clutching the stupid wooden spoon that didn’t make it anywhere near my mouth.
“I thought this would have been better,” she said, grabbing the vodka bottle and pouring a generous helping on the exposed laceration.
“Son of a motherfucking bitch, Stefany.”
“Stop being a big baby, Jake. It’s not that bad.” She gently started dabbing at the gash located below my shoulder as sweat pricked across my brow. “I think I can clean it better when you’re in the bath.”
She stood back and gestured to the bathtub, ready and waiting for me.
“Get in with me?” I asked, and she hesitated. I turned, capturing her hips with my hands to pull her into me. “Please. Nothing needs to happen.”
She nibbled on the corner of her lip, looking longingly at the tub, and nodded her head. I left her to undress as I went to a cupboard to grab fresh towels, dropping them by the edge of the bath when I returned.
Stefany was sitting in the water, knees brought up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. I smiled.
“I’ve seen you naked; you do remember that?” I teased as I slid my pants and boxers down my legs, kicking them to the side before joining her. A blush crept across her face as she gathered water in her hands and splashed it over her face.
“It might be better if you spread your legs and let me sit in between,” I said, loving the innuendo and how it deepened the hint of pink on her cheeks.
Submerging her legs in the water, she parted them, and I settled myself in front of her as she rang out the hand towel she’d brought in with her. We sat in somewhat comfortable silence, save from the trickling of water or a hiss coming from me, when she pressed a bit too hard.
“This maybe wasn’t a good idea. We’re sitting in my blood now.” I chuckled, skimming my hand around the red-tinged water. I could feel the small smile she gave, even though my back was to her as she continued to clean my wound.
“I don’t mind,” she said, removing the towel and dropping it over the side of the bath. She lightly traced the gash with her fingers, and goosebumps followed her touch, regardless of the hot water surrounding us. Honestly, the water was close to scalding, and I felt like my balls were being boiled.
She continued, “Besides, making you bleed has become a hobby of mine.”
I laughed so loudly that it echoed around the bathroom. Running my hands from her thigh, past her knees, I grabbed her ankles, and lifted them over my legs, pulling her closer to my body. I could feel her pussy against my lower back, and I wanted nothing more than to pull her onto my lap and sink inside her.
But this was a side to Stefany I had never experienced before; she was taking care of me, being tender, almost loving, and I didn’t want another hate fuck. As much as I loved those, I wanted nothing more than to be gentle with her, to worship her, and spend hours kissing, tasting, exploring her. Not a quick rough fuck where the goal was to get off and make her forget she hated me for a while.
Tonight, it was almost like something had shifted in our dynamic. What that was exactly, I couldn’t be sure, but I knew I didn’t want to jeopardise that.
“Well, aren’t you a little sadist?” I chuckled, tracing over the muscles in her calves with my fingers.
Her breath hitched, her hand stilling as she reached for a fresh bar of soap she must have found in the vanity. Dipping it under the water, she smoothed it over my back, taking particular care of the wound as she cleaned it out.
