Page 43 of Ruthless Obsession

“Oh, right. You decided to crash in the chair instead of my bed so I wouldn’t knee you in your gunshot wound?”

“If you’re not here to take care of me, leave,” he mutters, sitting up and planting his feet on the floor. He sucks in a breath as he tries to stand.

Without thinking, I reach for his arm and steady him. “Don’t be stupid,” I snap. “Let me help.”

“I don’t need your help,” he growls—but he leans into me anyway as I guide him toward the bathroom.

His blond hair is a mess, like he’s been dragging his hands through it all night. He hisses as he clutches his side. Seeing this powerful, unbreakable man—reduced, vulnerable—makesmy chest tighten. I shouldn’t care. He held me captive in a jail cell. But damn it, I do.

I grab his toothbrush and squeeze toothpaste across the bristles. Same thing he did for me yesterday. We move around each other in silence, but I feel his eyes tracking me like I’m the only thing that exists in the room.

As he brushes, I pour mouthwash into one of the little white paper cups. Then I turn on the shower. The water starts to steam.

I’m wearing a tank top and bed shorts, so he doesn’t get the wrong idea. Before I came to his bedroom, I’d already showered in the guest suite bathroom.

Last night, Mavis was sleeping in the chair in my bedroom. I know much of the pain he’s in is because he slept in the chair.

He drops his shorts on the floor outside the shower glass door.

Stiff. Long. Thick.

Is he just hard because it’s the morning? Or because he’s in my presence.

He steps into the shower and sits on the bench, and I focus on the task at hand. I gently wash his battered, tattooed body, careful not to disturb the bandage. But the temptation is brutal. His cock’s standing at attention, and he knows damn well what he’s doing to me. His smug smirk is all the confirmation I need.

Later in the day, I cook dinner for everyone. I take small bites of the parmesan crusted chicken, cauliflower, and roasted potatoes in front of Tonya so she can see I’m not trying to kill them.

I set Mavis up on the U-shaped Sofa, placing a pillow behind his head. He takes a few bites of food, then falls asleep at my side.

“Legos, I understand you’re an expert at stacking bodies like Legos.” I smile before pushing more food into my mouth.

Tonya’s jaw slacks. “What the fuck?” she mouths.

“Is Mavis pillow talking at night?” he asks.

“Yes,” I chuckle.

“Don’t tell people I pillow talk,” Mavis murmurs as his hand slides over my knee.

I don’t push it away. It seems his meds are making him drowsy and handsy. Nothing I’m not used to with him. The man loves to cuddle. It was odd being held by a stranger. At the same time, it felt comforting. Mavis has that way about him. The big sexy biker who showed me his dick the first day we met. But I don’t like bikers. Not anymore.

“I have a special way of stacking things up when my brothers and I run into trouble,” Legos says.

Tonya peeks at me and mouths, “Thank you,” as her hand runs along Lego's inner thigh.

“Dinner was delicious,” Lego adds.

“Thank you.” I smile.

I stand and grab the empty dishes.

“Sophie, I’ll eat mine later,” Mavis says, his voice low.

“Mavis, I’ll help you upstairs,” Tonya offers, rising to her feet.

“Relax with Legos. I’ve got him,” I say, not looking at either of them.

“Your bed,” Mavis mutters under his breath.