Tied Together

Chapter 22: Healing Kisses

[Sexual themes ahead]

The shower feels cold now.

I turn it off. I just standing shivering. I don't even have a towel, I didn't think this through very well, but I don't care. I just feel cold. Cold and numb. 

The door opens.

Ray trudges back into the room, still soaking, leaving a trail of water behind him. The muscle in his jaw twitching gives him away; he's pissed.

I'm frozen in shook, my jaw dropped as he strides over, chucking the two towels in his arms to the side. He turns the shower back on, and gets back in.

My heart starts to beat again and I feel a wave of relied flood me.
He came back.

He unscrews the lid to the cream he hand in his hand. He is focused. Eyes narrowed. Awfully quiet for Ray Preston.

He manoeuvres me so I'm mostly out of the water, and gentle starts to apply the cream in his hands to the fresh scratches along my arms.

He doesn't say anything. I don't either.

His eyes look haunted as he eyes me again and my heart pangs. I don't want him to look at me like this, with pity and sadness. I want him to look at me with desire and heat. Like he wants me.

Ray lets out an uneven breath once he has done applying the cream carefully to my scratches, he slumps against the wall opposite me.

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling too exposed now. I go to get out the shower but Ray puts his arm up against the wall, beside my head. Caging me in. He doesn't even need to move off the opposite wall he is leaning on to cage me, the shower is small enough and Ray is tall enough.

"Don't even think about it," he grunts.

My brows draw.

He sees my confusion and speaks again, "You are not leaving, until you tell me how you got every scar on your skin."

My blood runs cold. I try to keep a straight face, sucking in a breath before I speak, "Ray." my voice is low, cautious. "drop it."

He shakes his head, eyes determined. "I don't know much about your past, Tate. But I'm going to be in your future, and I want to know how these happened."

I scoff. "No. You really don't."

I can't tell him. He would never look at me the same. He would forever look at me like I'm an injured puppy. But I'm not an injured puppy. I'm a warrior. A person who has been hurt a few times too many, but I still get back up. I still fight.

Ray looks at me squarely, not backing down. "Try me."

I let out an exasperated breath. "Would you believe me if I say I just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time a lot?"

Ray frowns. "Then you'd have to be a very un-fucking-lucky person."

I laugh, despite the situation. Because right now, standing here with him, I don't feel so unlucky.

He looks shocked by my laugh, eyes widening slightly. His lips tug into a lopsided goofy grin.

"Show me your scars," I joke. "Make me feel better about mine."

He narrows his eyes, letting out a breath. "Fine." He points to the one along the side of his knee cap. "There was some glass in the grass on the field one game. Had to get a couple of stitches."

I can't hide my surprise seeing the jagged scar running the side of his knee. He looks so flawless all the time, I didn't realise he had scars too.

"And this one" he points the the on along his calf. "This is the one that made me want to become a doctor." He tells me about the story of how he was in a biking accident, and the person behind was injured worse. How he helped him keep pressure on the head wound until the ambulance came, and how he wished he could of done more. Known more. Swore to himself that day that if he ever got in an accident again he would know what to do.