Page 18 of In You

I spend the next almost half an hour depicting to him in painstakingly perfect detail every thing that's happened since I got her.

Except for the murder. I'm not trying to go to prison.

When we hang up, I slam my fist into a wood beam over and over again until the skin is torn and bloody and my knuckles are swollen, and I'm so tired that some of the anger has dissipated in favor of my body needing sleep.

Going back into the house, I close and lock the back door wearily and then head to my bedroom, intending to clean up my knuckles, and take a shower.

I'm so exhausted I don't know how I'm still standing.

I haven't been to sleep yet, and it's almost midnight.

I was up all night watching over Tamryn the night before, making sure she was okay.

But now the fatigue is setting in bone deep.

I only have about seven hours before Alexander makes it to the house, and I need every bit of that worth of rest I can get.

I set the alarm system and head down the hallway, weary in both my mind and my spirit.

Tamryn's situation feels like a wooden block that's been mercilessly placed on top of me and its weight is crushing.

As I approach her door, I pick up her presence, and sure enough as I pass, she's standing at the door looking through the crack.

She'd give a normal person a fucking heart attack.

I stop right outside, and turn just my head to meet her eye.

We stand like that for long seconds, just observing each other.

When the door opens a bit wider, I keep still, letting her make the first move.

Her eyes drift down my body. "What happened to you?"

"I hurt my hands out in the shed." I don't bother saying a name, I don't want to know who I'm talking to right now, honestly. I just want peace for a second, long enough to clean up.

Her eyes snap to mine, and the sorrow within makes my heart ache for her. "Was it because of me?" she asks in a tiny voice. I know then, that I'm speaking with Camilla.

"No, sweetheart. I had an accident in the shop outside," I say simply, keeping my clenched fingers loose and my voice calm.

Her eyes squint. "You look…tired," she says softly, holding Tink to her chest.

I nod, blinking the burning grit away and fighting rubbing my face with my fucked up hand. "I am," I admit hoarsely. "I haven't slept. And I have another doctor coming in the morning for you so we need to go to bed soon."

"Oh." She bites her lip, using her shoulder to open the door a little more. "Can I please help you?"

I tilt my head. "Help me what?"

"With your hands? Fix them up? I'm sorry for…for making you throw out dinner. And getting sick," she whispers this last part as a beautiful blush stains her cheeks.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about, at all. And yes, if you want to help me, you can."

I've never had a woman aside from my sister offer to help with anything.

It's been so long that I don't even know how to even accept a woman's touch.

Especially one like Tamryn's. My body tenses as she slips through the door and then carefully places Tink on the floor like she's made of the most precious glass.

I lead the way, opening the door to my bedroom, and it isn't until I'm all the way in the adjoining bathroom does she tiptoe in behind me, so quiet that I almost can't hear her steps.

I reach into the drawers and grab the first aid kit along with some cream, and place it on the vanity before lowering myself to the toilet, thinking this really isn't necessary, but it seems like her way of apologizing for dinner.

And I'm eager to ease her discomfort any way I can.

She motions for me to lay my forearm on my leg. I do, and she turns to the sink, wetting a washcloth and then wringing it out before sinking to her knees before me, almost too far away to even be able to help me comfortably.

All the work she's getting ready to do will be undone as I'm about to get in the shower, but I don't have the heart to tell her that. I think I need her to touch me.

Want her to.

We're both trembling, though I'm hiding it much better than her. And just when I'm about to tell her to forget it, to go ahead and go to bed, she places the very tips of her fingers to mine.

The first brush of her fingers on mine causes electricity to go up my arm, and I glance cautiously up at her.

Shock clouds her features, her pupils blow wide, and she pulls her fingers back hesitantly.

Her fingers tremble as she holds them just a few inches from mine, her eyes flickering as if she's confused for a moment.

"It's okay. You didn't hurt me," I say softly. "I promise."

"Okay," she says, grabbing the washcloth and wringing it one handed.

Something akin to happiness and pride swells inside me as she dabs the cloth ever so gently to my skin.

And where I would have just scrubbed my hands in the sink, ignoring the pain and then just wrapping my knuckles and went to bed, she's so gentle with me it takes my breath away.

She raises up and inches just a bit closer to lean over me as she concentrates hard on her task.

I'm so busy enraptured by the way her hair feels brushing against my arm as she works, that it isn't until my breath begins to burn in my lungs that I realize I'm holding it.

Her eyes come to mine. "It doesn't hurt?"

"It hurts very much, actually," I lie, because all I can feel is her. Her touch. And it doesn't hurt in the slightest. "Stings." I jerk my hand a bit to make it believable.

Tamryn gets a tiny grin as if she's amused, and then dabs white cream against my knuckles.

She's standing so close my knee is almost between her legs.

The hem of her tank brushes the top of my thigh in a tease, and it takes all my willpower not to reach out my free hand and run it up her soft thigh and grip her hip.

"Thank you for saving me," she says so quietly I almost didn't hear her.

My heart pounds as my eyes flick to meet hers.

Though she keeps hers downcast, the emotion and vulnerability is raw in her face.

Her throat works around a thick swallow, and a single tear falls down her cheek.

At the risk of her ire, I bring a hand up slowly to her face.

We both hold our breaths as I brush her tears away gently, and a muscle clenches in my jaw when her eyes flutter closed.

She presses her face ever so gently into my palm, making me suck in a sharp breath. "You're welcome."

The words come out normal, but on the inside, red-hot desire shoves its way down my throat, into my lungs, coiling in my stomach and settling so deep this woman becomes a part of me.

That heart I'd thought was dead suddenly comes to life, and begins to pump very real blood through my veins. Something that's been broken in me for thirty-six years clicks into place, and I vow right then and there's no one else for me.

Not in this life.

I don't know how, but I'm going to save this woman if it's the last thing I do.