Page 134 of Almost Ravaged

Her bare legs are pale but reddened at the knees. She’s a mess, and possibly hurt, and clearly unable to talk, because of me.

What have I done?

As I catch up, he ducks, speaking to her in low tones, but the closer I get, the more my panic turns into terror.

I stop several feet away. I can’t get any closer. Not after the havoc I wreaked on this beautiful woman.

Mercer glances up, his brows furrowed. “She’s fine,” he says softly. “More than fine. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Copper hair filled with dirt and debris cascades over his arm as her head lolls to the side and she breaks into a soft smile.

“So fine,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse and hazy.

“Come over here and see for yourself,” Mercer says.

The challenge is like a sucker punch.

I don’t want to come closer. I can’t stand to bear witness to what I’ve done.

“Noah,” he urges, his tone terse.

My feet don’t move, my brain and body no longer working in tandem.

With an impatient huff, he stalks toward me.

“Here.” He thrusts Sawyer against my chest.

I fumble but quickly recover, taking all her weight and holding her tightly. No way am I fucking dropping this woman in the dirt after what she’s just endured.

“Look at her,” Mercer presses, his breathing elevated. “Really look.”

Despite my better judgment, I obey. What I find almost knocks me on my ass. Her warm brown eyes are glassy and full of admiration, her lips curved up in a satisfied smile. And her attention is fixed completely on me. Despite being filthy, she’s so soft and warm and pliant.

Completely at ease in my arms.

“She’s in subspace. Blissed out after the intensity of what just happened.”

My stomach lurches. “I don’t—I don’t know what that means. You’re sure she’s okay?”

“More than okay,” Sawyer answers wistfully.

Mercer steps in and brushes her hair out of her eyes, then cups her cheek and presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’s our job now to take care of her,” he says. “To ensure she feels safe enough to stay like this for as long as she likes. To clean her up and to make sure she’s okay once the post-orgasmic bliss passes.”

A heavy pause hangs between us. Sawyer’s eyes drift closed. I gently adjust my hold, not wanting to jostle her. She snuggles closer against my chest and murmurs, “You smell good.”

Mercer snorts. I can’t imagine any of us smell good after running through a cornfield and exchanging all sorts of fluids.

When my best friend grasps my shoulder, it’s as if he’s physically imbuing the sense of calm he feels.

I search his face, desperate for guidance.

His expression is steady and serious. “I swear on my life, she’s okay. But we do need to get her cleaned up. I can take her back to my condo, then—”

“No.”

The resolute answer comes out of me before I even think it through, startling me as much as it startles him. “I want her here,” I insist. “I want to help take care of her.”

With his lips pressed together, he tips his head back and forth, considering me.