Page 8 of Resurrection (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #3)

Aly

“Alrighty... Here we go... Bath time!” I say in a bright and sun-shiny manner. It’s going to be a good day, dammit. Even if I have to make this day my bitch and force it to be one. I’ll don the strap-on and peg the son-of-a-bitch into blissful submission if need be.

Gonna be a good fucking day, boys!

It was unanimously decided that after three days of stagnancy, Cole was in need of a bath.

A real one. Desperately. While Hawk, Jax and I alternated watching him to take quick showers ourselves, Cole was limited to sponge baths.

We cleaned him up as best as we could when he was unconscious, but we could only do so much.

Especially after he unknowingly pissed all over himself and I had to wash both him and his clothes.

He managed to wash himself a bit at the sink yesterday after he woke up, and he’s in a fresh set—his soiled ones, now clean and dry—but. .. no .

A full soak and scrub down are what he actually needs. At least around the stitches we covered in plastic and duct tape to waterproof them, that is.

“Alrighty. Here we go. Oh! Watch out for the door! Lean on me more, Cole, and stop putting so much pressure on that foot!” I swear, the man is as stubborn as they come.

He didn’t want my help getting to the bathroom, repeatedly saying “ I’ve got it ” or some other rendition of the phrase, but I wasn’t about to listen to that nonsense.

Getting attacked by flesh-eating zombies and then almost dying because of it?

He better believe he’s going to get all the help I can muster, even if the guy is almost twice the size of me.

I severely underestimated how heavy Cole is. Pure, compact, undiluted strength makes up the brunt of his body, and as I lift his bulky arm from around my shoulder, allowing him to sit on the edge of the tub, I’m sorely reminded of it.

Haven’t even started, yet, and I’m already sweating buckets.

I huff a breath of exhaustion, taking a second to pull my pitiful-self back together, as I stare at the man in front of me.

Even perched on his ass, Cole is still at eye-level as I stand at my full height in front of him.

With a smirk, he meets my gaze and pauses.

Quiet yet intrigued. It’s almost like this is amusing to him, seeing me struggle.

I can see the glint in his eyes as he waits to see what I’m about to do next.

Even though it’s obvious to everyone here that he’s about to take a bath, he makes no move to undress himself.

Instead, he simply continues to stare at me, bitter enjoyment twinkling in his gaze.

“Come on, Doc. It’s not as if we all haven’t seen you naked before.

And, believe me, we’ve seen our fair share these past few days.

So let’s get this show on the road. Arms up, handsome.

” I step in front of him and raise my arms, looking like a toddler who wants uppies .

I realize I’m mocking him, but I’m also trying to do what Hawk normally does—take our minds off the negative.

Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m as good as Hawk is at being flippant if Cole’s singular raised eyebrow is anything to go by. Shit, maybe I should rethink my approach. I don’t even get a chance to offer my hand, however, as his comes up, grasping my chin firmly between his fingers.

His smile is pure, concentrated, dominating vengeance and—

Sweet goddess of pleasure and pain and all things kinky as fuck, I think I just peed myself a little....

“Oh, I’m fucked...”

Cole lifts my chin, directing my gaze to his confident glare.

“That’s right, pretty girl. You are,” he says, like there’s absolutely no wiggle room for me to get out of the pile of shit I just created for myself.

The side of his smile tilts up just a bit more, his sadistic nature coming out to play.

“Just because I’m hurt now, doesn’t mean I’m broken, gorgeous.

Just means I’m a little slower on the upswing.

But that’s ok. Go on ahead and keep doing what you’re doing.

I can do plenty to that sassy mouth even while busted and bandaged.

And I’m sure the guys here would be more than happy to step up and bat for me as well.

” The threat is delivered in that deep, gravelly tone that makes my knees shake and my breath shudder.

With his eyebrows raised, he looks pointedly at Jax and Hawk just beyond where I’m standing.

“Sounds good to me, hot stuff, hobble your sexy ass into to the tub and let’s make this a recuperation party,” Hawk replies, resuming his role as the helpful one in a tough situation.

What in the Rich Uncle Pennybags shit is this? Why does Hawk get a ‘Get Out of Jail Free card’ and I get a one-way ticket to jail?

Oblivious to my objection to Hawk’s apparent monopoly on satirical comedy—or maybe not so oblivious knowing his sadistic nature—Cole slowly slides into the tub, wincing as the lower half of his body sinks into the water.

With it being as large as it is, it took almost an hour to boil enough pots of water outside over a campfire to make the water streaming from the tap warm enough.

Making the fire was a bit of a risk—having potential to attract any nearby lurkers—but if we were able to provide Cole with a little bit of comfort during all of this, we were going to do it.

He settles down in the warm water, groaning to himself as his muscles relax, and begins to clean himself using the toiletries we found under the sink the other day. The scent of coconut and mango filters through the air and if I close my eyes, I can almost imagine myself on a beach . Almost.

I pick up Cole’s dirty laundry and make a pile just outside the door, placing fresh, clean clothes on the sink for when he’s done, and then run to the other room to grab a few more items Cole might want—a razor, extra washcloths, etc.

—setting them down on the sink as well. When I turn back to him, however, I notice his eyes are intently focused on me.

He licks the corner of his lip as he drags the wash cloth—the one I placed on the edge of the tub before we lumbered in here—down his chest and further under the water.

His eyes close and then slowly reopen, lust emanating from his face.

I can just about see the wheels in his filthy mind churning as his eyes travel the length of my body.

I avert my own lust-ridden gaze. No... No. He’s still healing. No hanky-panky until he’s back to full working order.

But he’s doing his sexy thing! He wants you and all the hanky-panky your ass can give. Look at him!

Looking back to Cole, I can’t help but clench my thighs as he tilts his head, following my gaze with his own, hypnotizing me, seductively reeling me in like a fish in water.

Hook.

Line.

And sinker.

Get that worm, hooker !

He sees my want—my need —even as I try and fail to tamp it down. “Gorgeous?”

“Yes?”

“Come here,” he commands with a look I know all too well. Simple, yet, in my case, extremely effective, melting away any insecurities about his health and leaving only the desire to obey.

Over the past few months, Cole’s dominant side has become more and more prevalent, coming to the forefront of his personality so often it’s become common place for him to lead rather than follow.

Especially when it comes to intimacy. It’s our baseline.

Our control. Our touchstone. The kinky normalcy we’ve been aching for.

He nods over to Hawk and Jax, who in turn look at each other, the both of them sporting matching smirks, before turning back to face me, hunger consuming them as they take a predatory stance.

It’s been days. Apart from my side quest with Jax a few days ago, none of us has had the mental fortitude for any type of sexual encounters. The worry, anxiety, terror, and mourning, followed by the rush of Cole coming back to life. It’s taken over all of my headspace.

Until just now.

Pushing my pesky inner horny hype-crew to the back of my mind, I set my course.

I have a feeling I’m seriously underestimating my nursing duties, but I’m so here for the sudden change in room temperature.

Before I even realize it, I fall, head first, into the role Cole and I have carefully cultivated from my deepest, darkest fantasies.

“What do you need from me, Doc?” I ask, breathless with desire as I let him take the lead.

He appraises me for a moment, drinking in the distance between us as it lessens. “I think it’s time, beautiful. Time to handle the past. And time to let it go.”

Wait... Is this what I think it is? Is he... distracting me? Pulling me out of my head? He’s done this with me before. Is that what this is?

Do it! Do it! Do it! Get some, girl!

“What do you mean?” I ask, wanting confirmation that my thoughts are his own.

“It’s still in your head. All that shit that happened, it’s got you in a noose, strangling the life out of you. You’ve been buzzing around nonstop. I can see the anxiety behind your eyes, pretty girl, and you need to let it go. It’s time to move on. Would you allow me... us... to help you do so?”

Yeeeeeesssssssss!!!!!!

As my inner-self dances around in my head singing “It’s Raining Men” by The Weather Girls, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve actually been handling this worse than I thought.

I look down at my hands. The tremble in them has become a constant side effect of everything that’s happened.

It’s more than obvious that the events of days past are affecting me more than I can manage.

I know Cole has pulled me out of my head before, halted panic attacks right in the middle of an episode in the past. He could probably help me manage my stress this time just as well. Should we do this?