of research.
“What are these from?” I asked, trailing my fingers over two puckered scars on Duke’s stomach. They marred his otherwise perfect abs. He had other scars, not as deep and violent-looking as these, though.
My head was resting on his chest and it was my first chance to inspect him up close. And to slow down my thundering heart. It was only now getting down to a resting rate, and we’d been lying here like this, silent, for at least half an hour.
I had no idea what time it was, or, fuck, what day it was.
All I knew was that Duke’s arms felt nice around me and made me feel as safe and sated as I’d been...ever.
“Knife wounds,” Duke said, answering my question. “Friend of mine had a fuckin’ piece of shit stalker after her. Somehow got through security, took me by surprise.”
He was angry about that, it vibrated through his voice. Not even at the man who did the stabbing, but at himself.
But I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to inspect that. I was too busy focusing on the fact that the two scars I was touching were from someone fucking stabbing him.
“You were stabbed? Was it serious?”
A totally stupid question, I was aware, since two knives slicing into your stomach deep enough to cause a scar like that were most obviously serious.
Duke paused. “Was in a coma for a few days. Hospital for longer. Rehab was a bitch. I’m here to talk about it, but the fucker who did it is in the ground.”
The only reason I was able to jump up from the bed was because Duke was not expecting it. I wasn’t even really planning on getting up either until I started pacing the room. “You were in a coma? That’s serious, Duke,” I snapped, still pacing, trying to work out the images of this strong man lying in a hospital bed.
Duke sat up in bed. “I know it was, I was there,” he said sounding mildly amused. “But I’m also here. So you can come back to bed.”
I ignored this. “What does your family think about you classifying a stabbing that put you in a coma like you got a fucking graze on your knee or something?”
A pause. A heavy one. “They don’t know.”
I stopped pacing at this point to gape at him. “They don’t know? How the heck do your parents not know that you were stabbed and put in the hospital? Weren’t they your emergency contacts?”
I had no idea why I was getting this hysterical over something so far in the past it was nothing but scar tissue, but I was. The idea that Duke’s family had been here going about their daily life while their obviously beloved son was in the hospital baffled and upset me.
“Because I had Greenstone Security on that list so as not to worry my parents over shit,” he replied. “It’s part of the job, and I certainly don’t want them worried about shit they don’t need to be.”
“They need to worry about their son being stabbed and lingering on death’s door,” I snapped. “They’d want to know that. They’d want to sit at your bedside and fucking feed you ice chips when you woke up. But they weren’t there. Who fed you ice chips, Duke?”
Duke got out of bed and I had a moment of sheer appreciation at his naked body outlined in the moonlight. It was a full moon. Of course it was, that’s why I was acting like such a crazy person. It had nothing to do with my intense feelings for Duke.
His hands landed on my hips and yanked my body close to his. I reacted to that too, even though I wasn’t sure if my body would survive another round of sex.
“First off, baby. I was not at death’s door,” he said, still sounding too amused.
“I was using dramatic license,” I bit out. “And I think it’s safe to assume when a badass man casually mentions he’s in a coma that things are a lot more serious than aforementioned man was letting on.”
The corner of Duke’s mouth moved and if it turned into a full-blown smile, he was in a buttload of trouble.
“Secondly,” he said, ignoring that little outburst. “I had the entire team there, and nurses are employed to do things like get ice chips.”
“It’s not the same,” I muttered, looking downward.
“I promise, next time I get stabbed, I’ll let you feed me ice chips,” he said.
My eyes snapped up.