"How are you really?" I asked, climbing onto the couch with Shy, pulling her up between my legs to rest on my chest.
"Tired but wired at the same time," she admitted. "I just keep replaying it."
"That might go on for a while."
"Yeah," she agreed. "I kind of see why Belle was so withdrawn. And I was only there for a couple hours, not days. And nothing that traumatic happened to me."
"Don't downplay it. It might not have been the same as what Belle went through, but that doesn't mean it wasn't traumatic for you."
She was silent at that, processing it.
"Joss told me I'm going to feel crappy for weeks," she grumbled as she snuggled in, the pain meds likely finally kicking in.
"Depends," I told her. "You might."
"I can always count on you for comfort," she quipped.
"You can always count on me for the truth," I corrected. "You wouldn't be happy if I said you're going to feel back to normal in the morning, and you feel dizzy and queasy and tired for a week."
"That's true," she agreed.
"But you know what?"
"No, what?"
"You got me here to take care of you."
"Will you wear a nurse's uniform?" she asked, letting out a girlish giggle at the idea, making me wonder if I'd gone a bit overboard with the pills, especially since she never took any.
"No. But if you're high enough on the meds, you might be able to imagine I did."
"My head feels better," she admitted.
"Good. You need to get some sleep."
"Okay," she agreed, taking a deep breath. I swear she was asleep before she even released it.
As for me, I didn't sleep.
I don't know if it was the after effects of the fear, of the adrenaline, or if a part of me was still paranoid about a desperate Anton trying one more time, but I sat there holding Shy as she slept, as the night moved to morning, and everyone started to stir.
We all stayed at Teddy's for the morning as Booker, Huck, and some of the guys went over to the clubhouse to check for any added security measures we could put into place.
By the afternoon, we decided it was time to head home, knowing there was still a threat, but also very aware of the fact that we couldn't put our lives on pause because of it.
We had no idea at the time that it would come right back to meet us where it all started to begin with.
In our very home.
Chapter Sixteen
Shy
It turned out that Joss was right. I felt like crap for a full week. The headache would come and go along with the random nausea that made it hard to eat, no matter what amazing concoction Eddie whipped up in the kitchen. The worst of it, for me, though, was the dizziness. I barely got out of bed the first few days because of it. And since it had been the strangest, most stressful, craziest few weeks of my entire life, I figured I earned a couple days in bed.
It didn't hurt that I got to have McCoy right there with me a lot of the time.
I don't know if you've ever been catered to by a man, but let me tell you, it is a worthwhile experience. Especially because, whether it was right or wrong, you didn't expect it of the men in your life.
Belle? Yes. I expected and was not disappointed by her ever-present face, bringing me drinks and small snacks she thought I could handle, doing my laundry, even giving me a full pedicure one day.
But the first time McCoy brought me a tray of food and a warm blanket from the dryer? I nearly swooned.
This man did everything for me for the first several days. He brought me food. He helped me shower when it didn't seem like I could do the task alone. He gave me pain meds when the headache was too much. He massaged my feet and let me pick the shows. Did he hold his tongue when the shows and movies I picked were completely absurd and not his taste at all? No, no he did not. Because that was McCoy. Good and kind and true. But honest and blunt and no-holds-barred.
It was that unique combination that I fell for.
"You're milking this," McCoy said on what had to be day eight or nine. I was losing track. It was the first time in my life since I was sixteen years old that I didn't have to get up and get to work every single day. I was just letting myself enjoy the extended vacation.
"Maybe a little," I admitted with a smile as he dropped the laundry basket onto the chair near the bed.
"You can't stay in bed forever," he added, coming up beside it.
"Well, I could. If you came in it with me," I said, shooting him a saucy smile.
To be honest, we hadn't done anything since before I'd been taken. The first few days when any movement made me feel like I was going to vomit, well, it was clearly out of the question. After that, we just kind of were enjoying talking and spending time together. A different kind of intimacy. A no less important kind.
But with the side effects of the concussion truly starting to wear off, I had to admit that I was more than ready to make up for lost time.
"Babe, you can't," McCoy insisted, though it looked like it was killing him to say that.
"Well, which one is it? Am I too hurt to, or am I milking it, and should get out of bed?" I asked. "It can't be both," I added, sliding down on the bed, and making sure the movement caused his tee that I was wearing to slip up, exposing most of my thighs.
"Shy..."
"Well, if you don't think it's a good idea..." I said, rolling over onto my stomach, and cocking my leg up at an angle on the mattress as the tee went completely up and over my ass, giving him an eyeful of, well, everything since I didn't have a lot of clothes at the clubhouse to begin with, and all my panties were in that laundry basket he'd just brought up. "I guess I can just get some sleep then."
I barely got the words out before a low rumble moved through him as his hand grabbed my ass cheek, giving it a squeeze then a jiggle before he reached up, lifting off his shirt.
Desire was a pressure on my lower stomach, a fluttering sensation between my thighs.
My greedy gaze slid up his abs, his chest, feeling the need spark off every nerve ending, creating wildfires across my skin until my eyes finally landed on his face, finding the same hunger I felt inside reflected in his gaze.
McCoy's lips twitched, knowing the impact he was having as his hands went to his waistband, working his button and zipper free. My gaze followed every movement of his fingers as he slipped down his pants and boxers, as he reached down to grab his thick cock.
"Get over here," he demanded, voice rough.
I took a second to enjoy the little belly shiver at his demand before pushing up onto all fours and crawling toward the edge of the bed, then swung my legs over the edge of the bed, so I could drop down on my ass.
Then, with my gaze on his, I let my lips fall open, a silent invitation that had his chest shaking with his exhale and a low, growling noise escape him as he grabbed the back of my neck, and shoved his cock deep in my mouth, into the back of my throat.
My hands slipped behind him to hold his thighs as he started to fuck my mouth, using me how he wanted it—fast and rough and deep.
Until, on a savage curse, he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked backward until his cock slipped out from between my lips.