I lifted my hands to run them over the deep red marks and hissed as my fingers brushed my tender nipples. His mouth had been there, and it had been harsh. I didn’t like that. And what was worse was that I couldn’t remember any of it.
It wasn’t a blur. It wasn’t a fuzzy memory. It just wasn’t there. And that didn’t feel good. It was confusing, and appalling, and it made me feel dirty, regardless of whether or not I was a willing participant.
I showered in silence and reasoned with myself. No one would see the other hickeys. I would enlist Nas to help me cover the one on my neck as best as we could. It would all be forgotten soon enough, an incident I would push aside and soldier on past. Just as I did with the other bad things in my life.
When I was done, I dressed in my yellow pajamas, as I intended on going back to bed, and walked back out into the bedroom. The curtains had been drawn open, sending sunlight flooding in. My eyes burned, but I was too busy focusing on the furious man, pacing by the bed.
I took a step closer. “Lev?”
He continued to pace.
Another single step closer. “Lev? What’s wrong?”
He turned to face me, his eyes blazing. “Who hurt you?”
My brow bunched and I shrugged lightly, indicating that I didn’t know what he was talking about.
He paraphrased, “‘It wouldn’t be the first time.’” His bare stomach clenched as he gritted his teeth and growled, “Who hurt you? Tell me. Tell me and I’ll kill them.”
Was it wrong to be turned on by this scene?
Something told me it was highly inappropriate. Somehow, that didn’t stop the flow of warmth sailing through me, or the feeling akin to winning something big, like the lottery.
And Lev was a fine lottery to be won.
But then I looked closer, and that feeling receded. He was distressed. He also looked as though he didn’t know how to deal with that. I could feel the anger and frustration pulsing off him.
Knowing that anger wasn’t directed at me had me by his side in a second flat. I took his hand and led him to the sofa, sitting and pulling him down next to me. I placed his hand in my lap and covered it with mine. “I was on the street for a long time, Lev.” I tilted my head and gave him a regretful look. “Shit happens.”
“No,” he uttered, shaking his head. “No, it doesn’t. People cause those things to happen, and they need to be punished. They need to suffer the consequences.” He declared, “There is always a price to pay.”
“You want to search the streets to find a group of young thugs who tried to force sex on me years ago? Does that sound like a normal thing to do?”
Lev lowered his head and revealed, “I’m not normal.”
I wasn’t about to lie to him. “No, you’re not.” Then I admitted quietly, “But sometimes I think you’re better than the normal person. Extraordinary. Unique. Elite. Gallant.” He didn’t look up at me. I didn’t like when he tried to hide from me. I squeezed his hand. “Hey. They didn’t succeed, you know. That knife you took from me when I first got here…it did its job.”
When I ran my thumb over his fingers, he winced. My brow drew taut as I lifted his hand to examine it.
My heart stopped.
The middle finger on his left hand was swollen, purple, and very obviously bent in a direction that it shouldn’t have been going in. “Lev, sweetie,” I spoke calmly. “I think your finger is broken.”
He nodded as if that wasn’t news to him. “It’ll be fine.”
“Jeremiah?” I asked.
He grunted affirmatively.
I sighed. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that it doesn’t hurt.”
“No.” He shook his head lightly. “It hurts very much.” He turned to me, looking me in the eye. “But the reason behind it was worth every ache.”
I am falling in love with you, Lev Leokov.
This time, the sudden thought didn’t surprise me. I think I’d known it a while now.
Chapter Eighteen
Mina