Page 11 of Blake

“You can do it.” Her voice was husky, either from being strangled. Or maybe, just maybe, if the beating pulse in her neck was any giveaway—it was him.

“Do you want to do it in here or the bedroom?” He watched her eyes dilate and she leaned into him slightly not even realising she was doing it.

“What?”

He wondered how hard she’d hit her head. “Get your mind out of the gutter, honey. When I fuck you it won’t be when you’re too busted up to enjoy it.” His grin seemed to snap her out of her fog.

“Pig,” she responded but with little heat.

“Let’s go into the living room and I can check your ribs.”

Blake pulled her gently with him to what he assumed was the living room. He wasn’t convinced he could keep it professional if he got her upstairs. Reaching the door to the living room he pushed through and took in the cream carpet, cream couches, and pale dusky purple walls. A large television dominated the wall above the fireplace where a log burner sat below a heavy oak mantle. He was tempted to lecture her about having a tv on the wall above a fireplace but curbed it, deciding the timing was most definitely wrong. Vases of fresh flowers sat on end tables beside the sofa and a deep cuddle chair with an open book placed face down was on the back wall.

He realised that he had made a mistake when he’d thought this didn’t suit Pax. It did suit her, just not the Pax she showed the world. The Pax that was starting to worm her way under his skin was a different thing, and this suited that Pax perfectly.

Blake led her towards the sofa facing away from the window and stopped. “You’re going to need to lift your top.”

He looked down and for the first time really took in the long legs, the shapely thighs, and the thin vest top that barely covered her tits. He sucked in a silent breath and said a prayer for patience.

Pax looked at him a beat before she slowly lifted the top until it was just beneath her tits, their curve teasing him. Blake instantly forgot about her sexy curves when the black and blue of her ribs came in to view. The desire to punch something made his body vibrate with suppressed anger.

Whoever had given this so-called warning had really gone to town on her. Her ribs were a marble of bruises in differing shades of blue and purple. His eyes shot to hers and saw she was watching him.

“I need to touch you, make sure they aren’t broken.” Blake’s words were half request and half apology. He knew this would hurt and the thought of causing her any more pain than she was already in filled him with horror.

“It’s okay, just do it.”

Blake gently checked her ribs noticing the inhale as he did and offering her an apologetic look. “Sorry, honey.”

He dropped his hands a few minutes later when he was satisfied her ribs were only bruised and not broken. It wouldn’t feel like much of a comfort to her at that moment, but it made him give a sigh of relief. “Bruised not broken. You need to keep on top of the painkillers.” He took a step back and moved towards the kitchen.

Pax followed him at a much slower rate than usual. He could feel her watching him as he walked to her freezer and started hunting through.

“What are you doing?”

He lifted his head and grinned. “Ice.” He held up some frozen sweetcorn. “You need to ice them regularly to keep the swelling down.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess.” She shrugged then winced at the movement. “Fuck that hurts. Tell me this heals quickly?” she implored; her face worried.

Blake wrapped the sweetcorn in a dishcloth and turned her back towards the living room. “Yeah, it will hurt bad for about a week. You need to rest, ice them, and keep on top of the pain relief and breathe normally. You need to make sure your lungs inflate and clear properly or you’ll get an infection that can quickly turn to pneumonia if you’re not careful, and that shit is serious.”

“Speaking from experience?” She sat slowly and took the makeshift ice pack he handed her.

Blake looked up and nodded as he pushed a footstool towards her and lifted her ankles so she was slumped and could lay back easier. “Yes. I’ve had busted ribs a time or two.” He saw the twitch in her lips and knew she wanted to ask. “Rugby,” he said with a lip twitch of his own at her stubbornness.

“Awe, I see.”

“Where are the painkillers?”

“On the cabinet beside my bed.” Her words came slowly, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted him in her bedroom.

“Don’t worry, Pax. I promise not to go through your underwear.” Blake grinned at her before he loped away and took the stairs two at a time.

He found her room and Pax’s scent hit him like a two-tonne truck when he walked in. He let the fragrance of her wind its way around him as he stood stock still and surveyed her very feminine room. He had the overwhelming desire to lie on her bed to hold her while she slept. Feel her curves and listen to her breathing go deep as she rested.

Shaking it off, he spotted the paracetamol and ibuprofen by the bed and snagged them before leaving the room and the fanciful notions it had put in his head.

He walked into the lounge to see she was watching the door for him, the tiniest bit of relief showing on her face when she saw him. He knew why she felt vulnerable and she would hate that, but it also gave him a ridiculous sense of achievement. She trusted him when she was exposed. He liked that and let the feeling settle in him.