Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 72401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
I ignored Cleo and stayed where I was, shivering. “C-cold.”
“I know, baby,” Cleo said. “But if you get too hot, we’re going to have to take a cold shower, and you know how that’s going to go.”
Sighing, I rolled away from the beautiful warmth of Cleo’s body until I had a foot between us, and continued my shivering.
“You’re the devil,” I croaked.
“You may call me Diablo,” Cleo rasped.
“Oh, Mikhail. I do love you,” I whispered before falling back asleep.
I missed the, “I love you, too.”
***
Cleo was doing sit-ups in my living room.
Shirtless.
And pantless.
In the middle of the night.
“Where’re your pants?” I croaked.
Cleo stopped halfway into a sit up and twisted just his upper body to look at me.
My eyes roamed over the tanned expanse of his chest, cataloguing the multiple tattoos, ridges on top of ridges of hard, toned muscle, and finally the newest addition.
Scarring.
“What happened?” I gasped as I lurched forward.
He sat up fully, and then stood, giving me an unencumbered view of his entire body.
I started running my hands over the scarring on his lower hip that disappeared into the waistband of his underwear. A larger gash was evident on his right shoulder, as well as what seemed to be shrapnel scars dotting the rest of his chest.
“I told you, I had an accident,” he said evenly.
I looked up at his face seeing him staring at me in concern, and then back at his belly.
The scars were still fresh.
Deep purple, and prominently raised, it looked like it’d hurt when it happened.
It also looked like it might still hurt.
“You didn’t tell me what kind,” I said as I reached gently to trace the underside of the scar with the tip of my finger.
He closed his eyes and sighed.
“It was a bad last mission. The team was supposed to help two soldiers who were in a small village outside of their camp. They got separated from their company when a woman blew herself up beside them. It was supposed to be just a routine combat rescue. We knew the area wasn’t secure, but that’s just how it was. That’s what we did. There was a man waiting to show us where to go. A local. However, another woman was there, and she blew herself up right when we stepped foot into the building. My whole team died except two. Bones and I were the only survivors.”
He explained it in a monotone voice. A voice that lacked any emotion, making him sound deadly.
“I’m so sorry, Cleo,” I said softly.
Then I just couldn’t help myself.
It was ingrained in me to offer him support. All it took was for me to see the flash of pain in his eyes before they shuttered closed to get me moving. He’d been my best friend. Just because he’d left, didn’t mean I didn’t still love him. Nor hurt when he hurt.
Which was why I found myself throwing my body into his arms, and burying my face into his neck.
He clutched me close to him, holding on while he fought whatever demons he was remembering.
“And how’s Bones?” I asked as I backed away from him.
He shrugged. “About the same as me. We’re living, but not really breathing. Doc says I have PTSD. The doc’s gave me some medicine, but it only makes me like a zombie. Working out seems to help, though.”
Well, that explained the sit-ups.
“How long have I been asleep?” I asked, trying to get his mind off the past.
He looked at the black, mammoth watch on his wrist before answering, “Thirteen hours. Your fever broke. I looked in your purse and found your antibiotics, forced you to take them around eight.”
I nodded. “Thank you. You probably shouldn’t be here. I don’t want you to get sick.”
He gave me a droll look. “You do know what I do for a living, right? I’m around sick people all the time.”
That was true.
“Okay, well don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I shrugged.
He smiled. “You threw up on my pants, too. They’re in your washer, along with the clothes you were wearing.”
I looked down at the thin white camisole and white cotton panties I was wearing, and blushed.
I hadn’t even thought to look at the clothes I’d been wearing before I came out here.
“I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassed.
He shrugged. “Been there, done that.”
I’d had that happen, too.
That didn’t mean it was fun, however.
“I’m hungry,” I said as I turned towards the kitchen.
There was no point in me getting dressed now. He’d already seen me in what I was wearing. Then again, he’d dressed me in what I was wearing.
And neither the shirt, nor the panties, were what I’d put on the previous morning.
“I put the soup that was in your front seat in the kitchen by the sink. I had my sister bring some soup, though. That shit you got was disgusting looking,” he said.
I stopped short and turned to look at him.
“Which sister?” I asked.
All of his sister’s didn’t like me. However one of them, Molly, hated me with a passion.
She was the baby in the family, and was the most possessive of her brother. She didn’t feel like anyone was good enough for Cleo, and had told me so. The words she’d used hadn’t been as eloquent, but it was nearly the same.
“Mikayla,” he answered.
I relaxed instantly. There was no way I was going to eat anything that was made by Molly, but Mikayla I’d do. Mikayla was the oldest of the Caruso horde. Mikhail the second. Followed by Meredith, and finally Molly.
They were a very tight group, and it’d take a small miracle to become one of their group. Even the sister’s own husbands were barely tolerated.
Cleo probably didn’t even realize that his sisters were so protective of him, either.
“Thank God,” I exhaled.
He looked at me sharply. “Why do you say that?”
I rolled my eyes and went to the crockpot that was in the corner of my kitchen counter.
My kitchen wasn’t much to look at. White cabinets, white tiled counter, with a white tiled backsplash.
The floor was diner checkered black and white linoleum, and the appliances were basic white.