light those mother fuckers up using the fire eating away at my insides. I beat the heavy bag until my knuckles are bloody, and I collapse on the floor in a pile of sweat and spent frustration because that is all I can do. The man is her father, and touching him would hurt us, no matter how justified.
The sun rises on the horizon when I tiptoe back into the house and rinse my body in the spare bathroom. I grab my cell and make a call before slipping into bed beside my girl. My gaze lingers on her busted lip and swollen cheek and eye until they are forever ingrained, and I fall asleep.
The muffled but persistent chimes of Jess's annoying alarm wakes us entirely too early. Not that I know what time it is, but it is for sure too fucking soon.
She groans, rolling over and sinking her face into the side of my chest.
"Stay in bed." I offer, blindly planting a kiss on her hair and shoving the blankets off to go in search of her phone because it's not on my bedside table where we usually leave it when she spends the night.
"No," she says with a whimper, and I spy her probing her tender lip. She turns her face when she catches my stare. "Today’s Saturday, I have work." Her words are mumbled to protect her injuries.
I toe the clothes she removed last night and find her purse beneath them, her phone in the outer pocket. After hitting the off button for the alarm, I set her phone on my nightstand and sink back into the mattress. Sliding into the middle of the bed, I tip her chin up so she'll meet my eyes and lock my hand around her hip, dragging her closer. Once again, I'm shoving my rage into compartments for later use as I discover how black and blue her smooth skin is in the light of day.
Kissing her nose, I force a small smile. "I called Chase earlier. She's covering for you. Go back to sleep."
"Earlier? It's seven-thirty, Carter." Every word remains slow and awkward like she's had dental work, and her mouth is numbed.
"Is it? Okay, then, I called her an hour ago, and believe me, she was not pleased with my sunrise wake-up call, but she was happy to take your shift." I stifle a yawn and run my hand over her hip and butt. "More sleep, please?"
"You didn't have to…" She trails off, then touches my face with her fingers. "Thank you for calling her. What did you tell her?"
"That she knows I would never ask if it weren't vital and that we'd fill them in later."
A tear falls across the bridge of her nose. "About last night, I'm sorry I called you—"
"Don't." I grip her hip and angle my head closer. "As the man who is falling in love with you, there is nothing about calling me when you're in danger that you need to apologize for."
Her tongue pokes out, the tip wetting the crease of her lips. "You're falling in love with me?"
I said that out loud, didn't I? Well, fuck it. "Yes, I am. We'll talk about it all later, okay?"
"About the love thing, or about my dad and last night?"
Take away my stud of the year card because I whine like a child at bedtime. "About all of it, baby, now, please sleep."
"Fine." She inches against me and stretches her leg over my hip until the heat at the junction of her thighs brushes my morning wood. I grit my teeth, my lower half awakening while my brain is clearly in dire need of sleep. When Jess implants her head beneath my chin and sighs, my eyes close, and sleep claims me before desire wins out.
We don't discuss the love thing or her father when we wake because when my eyes open, she's already huddled under a throw on my couch watching a random Netflix show. She draws the cover to her face attempting to hide, but she does it casually like I'm just a random guy walking by who won't be taking a seat next to her. Which I do. I sit on her unharmed side and stretch my legs out, crossing my ankles on the ottoman.
"What are we watching?" I ask, staring at the screen.
"Hart of Dixie."
"This is a chick show, isn't it?"
She presses the blanket over her mouth as if to keep from cracking a smile. "Most likely."