Page 124 of The Firebrand
Rein let her cry.
“I’m so girlie.” She slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the sobs.
“Crying isn’t always about weakness.”
“Really? You have a lot of experience with crying?” She sniffled, tilting her face toward the ceiling to contain the flow of tears.
“Not a lot, but after a fight, they can mean relief. The bravest males I know cry on occasion. No shame.” He brushed a tear off her cheek with a thumb.
“Okay, as long as you know I’m not a wuss.”
“I’d never mistake you for a wuss. A smartass. Never a wuss.”
Rein grabbed for the washcloth, squeezing water from it, letting it sluice down her back. She flinched. He did the same to her arms before he wiped her face. After shampooing her hair, he bent her forward and, with the sprayer, rinsed out the soap. With his hands lathered, he gently washed the rest of her body, avoiding the deep scratches.
Once he finished, she leaned against his solid wall of muscle, relaxing into his protection. Here was comfort, safety. The day’s trauma faded.
Before the water cooled, Rein lifted Braelyn out of the tub, wrapped her in a fluffy towel, and cradled her to his chest. When his breathing settled, he set her on the stool again to re-examine the injuries.
“You should have let the healers see to these.”
She touched his arm. “I wanted to come home with you.”
“Stop tempting me, Brae. Sex can wait.”
She rested a hand on each side of his face. “I know what I need. Besides, you can’t say no after what I’ve been through.” She puffed out a lower lip. “My father says I take pouting to a new level.”
Rein snorted. “Pouting doesn’t work with me.”
Braelyn shrugged off the towel and fisted Rein’s erection, stroking the thick, pulsing evidence of his desire. “Does this work?”
He thrust into her hand but halted suddenly, stepping out of her reach so she had to release him. “Stop.”
When he trailed a seductive finger across her cheek and down to her swollen jaw where he paused, Braelyn shivered, an icy breeze on her skin. “It feels better.”
“I can heal minor wounds.” Rein’s palm glided over her body, pausing at lacerations and painful bruises. Some began to knit together or fade.
After bandaging the larger, deeper cuts, Rein carried her into his bedroom. When she scowled at the tipped dresser and blood-stained floor, he spun, delivering her into the spare room instead. He pulled back the coverlet, situated her under the sheet, and crawled in beside her.
“You’re gonna be very happy about your decision.”
“I didn’t say yes.”
“You didn’t say no,” she whispered. Braelyn’s tongue traced the curve of his ear, moving on to his earlobe, nipping it with her teeth. “I’ll let you bite me.”
He stiffened, pulling back to lean onto an elbow. “We need rules, Brae.”
“You mean like no pass interference, false start, roughing the kicker?”
“I’m serious. No biting. No feeding. I won’t risk it.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but why would that be such a bad thing?”
He drew farther away, resting against the headboard, sighing as if he didn’t want to explain.
“Just tell me. I won’t report you to the VBI if you spill a secret.”
“The what?”
