Sin & Suffer (Pure Corruption MC #2)(40)

But what could I do? Time would fix him—and if it didn’t, I just had to hope doctors would.

We stayed quiet for a while. I feared he’d gone back to sleep, but then his voice trickled into my ears. “You can’t keep worrying, Cleo.” He nuzzled closer. “The doc last night was really great. She gave me some painkillers and anti-inflammatories. Did a few tests that I have no idea the purpose of, and arranged to pop by in a few days for a checkup.”

Propping myself up on my elbow, I looked down at him. “Did she say you’ll be okay? No long-term effects?”

He looked at the ceiling, avoiding my eyes. “Of course. What else would she say?”

A tremble quaked down my spine. He’s lying again.

I didn’t know how to reply.

Arthur suddenly rolled onto his side and spooned me against his hard, bed-warmed body. “Like I said, stop worrying. I’ll be fine. Yes, I’m not a hundred percent yet, but I will be.”

Kissing the top of my head, he threw his leg over mine, capturing me possessively. “However, I do want a bit more sleep.” His long length rippled like polished stone, his hard edges intoxicating.

My heart skipped as he pulled me closer and rocked his hips against my butt.

“Just … lie here with me for a little longer.” His breath caught. “And then we have the matter of settling a bet about money bringing happiness.”

Money doesn’t bring happiness. You do. And right now you’re hurting me by avoiding what’s important.

I wanted to deny him. I wanted to force him from the bed and call the doctor to check him over again. Something wriggled in my heart, urging me to uncover whatever he kept hidden.

“Cleo, stop,” he breathed. “Your thoughts are so loud.”

I stiffened, unable to relax when all I thought about was him passing into a coma if he went back to sleep.

“I’m okay.” He pressed the sweetest kiss on my shoulder. Heat spread like blooming tendrils, disappearing down my back.

I shuddered and sighed, unable to hide the watery sound of my concern.

Arthur squeezed me closer, his strength undiminished even if his head was broken. “Honestly, Cleo. I’m fine. Just need a few days to rest, that’s all.” Kissing me again, he whispered, “Now, can you please stop thinking and let me hold you without fearing a panicked rabbit lives in your chest?”

I laughed halfheartedly. He’s right.

My heart raced to a supersonic beat while Arthur’s pounded slow and sure behind me. I forced myself to take comfort from the strong, steady tempo.

He’s alive.

That was all I needed—for now.

“Just another hour, shokay? Then … we’ll …” His voice slurred a little as he slipped quickly back into sleep. He drifted.

“Okay, Arthur. I can wait another hour before interrogating you.”

Counting down minutes in my head, I lay still and silent.

I should’ve been comforted in his embrace, but instead all I suffered was fear.

A day passed.

One moment it was dawn, the next it was dusk.

How did one hour turn into ten?

I’d remained unyielding and unsleepy in his arms for his requested hour. Once time had run out, I’d tried to rouse him but failed—he’d succeeded in swatting me away like an annoying bug, rolling himself up in the blankets. He was out again before I could poke him from his greedy dreams.

Another hour had passed.

I’d learned from my past mistakes and didn’t make the same again. Rolling him onto his back, I’d given him no room to hide. I’d slapped him. Gently at first, but harder until he rose from the clingy existence of sleep and opened his eyes.

And there, I’d trapped him.

I didn’t let him sink again. I caught him in my net and chatted and questioned and became so annoying he laughed and shoved me playfully.

Even when he climbed from the covers to shower, I followed and gossiped and became a hyped up version of the weather channel, shopping network, and self-help station all to keep his mind here with me and not in the abyss of concussion.

And it worked.

After his shower, he was alert.

We snuggled back into bed after raiding the kitchen for cornflakes and fruit, and spent the day side by side. We didn’t move far from the bedroom, but we turned the space into our haven, and for the first time since I’d woken tied in the back of the van with a scary biker battle as my welcome, I found a slice of ordinariness.

I adored it.

Arthur lost the argumentative snappiness from last night and we both ignored our unfinished argument in favor of pliancy and togetherness.

By the end of the day, my headache had faded to a gentle throb and with the aid of a few painkillers it disappeared entirely.

I’d never spent a full day in bed before. I could never stay still long enough or tolerate my own company for long, as it only highlighted my lack of a past. But the movie marathon we indulged in, laughing at others’ misfortune and relating to lovers in the midst of trouble, was rare and cherished.

Occasionally, Arthur would roll over and gather me close. His nose would nuzzle into my neck and we’d watch the flickering scene with nothing between us.

Those were my favorite times.

The brief moments when we were nothing more than a man and woman snuggled up in bed watching other people’s lives for a change. It made me glow and ache all at the same time.