Trapped (Caged #2)(57)

“It was deep,” Yolanda said, “and you lost a lot of blood.”

I watched Tria wipe her hand across her cheek. With a sigh, I sneaked my hand out from under the blanket and grabbed onto her fingers.

“I’m okay,” I told her. I had no f*cking idea if that was true or not, but I didn’t feel too bad.

“Nothing major cut too bad,” Yolanda continued. “There was a nick in your stomach and intestine, but they weren’t too serious.”

“They had to give you three transfusions,” Tria said quietly.

I gripped her hand again.

“I’m okay,” I said again. “My cock still works, so nothing to worry about.”

She smashed her lips together and tried to refuse me the justification of a laugh.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“I’m looking at you, baby,” I said. “You want to check the state of my cock?”

“On that note…” Yolanda grabbed her bag off the table near the door and waved goodbye, promising she’d be back to visit the next day. Tria sighed and sat heavily on the rolling chair near the bed. Her eyes were all bloodshot and droopy, which I didn’t like at all.

“Lie down with me?” I asked. I looked up at her with what I hoped were convincing and pathetic puppy dog eyes. I was glad Yolanda wasn’t around to see me because I felt shitty, and all I really wanted was for Tria to hold me.

Tria helped me move over without tearing the line of staples and surgical tape adorning my side and then crawled into the bed with me. I wrapped my arms around her, and she lay her hand over the top of my arm just like she usually did when we were in bed at home. I watched her gaze move to my side before she pulled the blanket up over us both.

“I’m not going to be as pretty anymore,” I joked.

Tria looked up at me for a moment before giving me a half smile.

“Well, I did always like your abs,” she commented, “but they aren’t my favorite part.”

“Of course not,” I said. “Your favorite part is my cock.”

“No, it isn’t!” Tria laughed.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” She glared back at me.

“Well, what then?”

She traced a line over the edge of my bicep with her finger.

“Right here,” she said quietly.

Her tone had changed—softened and deepened. I lay my head on her shoulder and looked up at her. I flexed the muscles of my arm a bit and watched her smile.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

She shrugged and then moved her finger slowly back and forth over the edge of the muscle.

“They have the strength to keep me safe,” she said. “They’ve saved me, protected me, and made me feel secure at night, but they are also soft and gentle with me.”

She gripped my arm as I brought my hand up to cup her face. I brought her closer to me and covered her lips with mine. We kissed a couple of times before she moved her hand to my face and looked into my eyes.

“Please quit fighting,” she whispered.

My chest tightened up.

“Tria…”

“You could have died,” she said. “I heard them say if Yolanda hadn’t done everything she did while we were waiting for the ambulance, you could have died from the blood loss.”

“I didn’t,” I told her.

“Not the point.”

“You just said you like my strength,” I reminded her.

“That doesn’t mean I like the fighting.”

For a long moment we just looked at each other, neither of us wanting to budge.

“It’s not going to happen, Tria,” I said quietly. “It’s what I do. It’s all I do. Maybe someday but not now.”

“You could get hurt again,” she said. “What am I going to do if something horrible happens to you?”

“I’ve been doing this a long time,” I said. “This is the first time something like this has happened.”

“Yolanda said you got stabbed before.”

“That was a scratch.”

She eyed me with a tight mouth and a hard look. I pushed her hair away from her face, and then I ran my thumb over her cheekbone. Moving closer, I kissed her slowly and gently until the door opened.

“I thought I told you nothing strenuous,” the doctor said with a half smile and a raise of his eyebrow.

“I guess some people consider this strenuous,” I replied with a shrug. “Maybe you need a little more practice or something. It’s just like breathing to me.”

“No more practice needed,” he said. “I’m perfect already.”

He didn’t make Tria move as he checked out my side, adjusted my IV, and generally f*cked around with the equipment around my bed.

“You’re doing well,” he said.

“So I can go home now?”

“Soon,” he replied.

“When’s soon?” I asked.

“Before later,” he said as he made a couple of notes on the chart at the end of the bed and walked out.

“Asshole,” I shot at him as he left.

“Child!” he called over his shoulder with a smile. “Gonna send you to Children’s Hospital downtown!”