Chapter 229

[ 526 words ]

Chapter 229:

Her black turtleneck sweater was gone. It lay in a crumpled heap on the floor near the edge of the bed. She was currently wearing nothing on her upper half except a thin, white cotton camisole. Her bare shoulders and back were pressed directly against Jarrod’s naked, scorching-hot chest.

A wave of hot, indignant anger flared in her stomach. Did he strip her in her sleep?

Then a fragmented memory surfaced. She vaguely remembered waking up in the dead of night, suffocating from the combined heat of the heavy duvet and his furnace-like body. Blind with exhaustion, she had blindly tugged the heavy wool sweater over her head before collapsing back into the pillows, leaving her in the thin camisole she always wore underneath her scrubs. The sharp spike of indignation slowly ebbed away, leaving behind a strange sense of vulnerability.

Still, the proximity was too much. She planted her hands on the mattress, fully intending to shove her elbow hard into his ribs and wake him up to demand some space.

But as she twisted her body around to face him, the angry words died instantly in her throat.

𝖨n𝘴𝗍𝗮𝗇𝘵 𝘢cс𝗲ss 𝗈𝗻 𝗀al𝗇o𝘷е𝗅s.𝗰𝗼𝗺

In the harsh, unforgiving light of the morning sun, she finally saw the reality of his physical condition.

Jarrod’s face was relaxed in sleep, but his brow was deeply furrowed, twitching occasionally as if he were fighting a nightmare.

Along his sharp, stubble-covered jawline, there was a fresh, angry red laceration — a bullet graze, the skin torn and crusted with dried blood.

Caroline’s eyes tracked lower. Across his massive, bare left shoulder and collarbone, the skin was painted a horrifying, mottled canvas of deep purple and black. It was a massive contusion, the kind of blunt-force trauma sustained from a high-speed parachute landing gone wrong, or a brutal, hand-to-hand fight for survival.

He was a wreck. His body was battered, bruised, and bleeding.

The operative part of Caroline’s brain analyzed the wounds and calculated the timeline. He had survived a meat grinder of a mission, sustained severe physical trauma, ignored all medical protocols, and immediately boarded a plane to fly across the globe — just to make sure she was safe in this bed.

The hot anger in Caroline’s stomach instantly evaporated, replaced by a heavy, crushing ache of profound sorrow and empathy.

He was frightening, yes. But he was a man who was bleeding for her.

Caroline slowly pulled her hand back from where she had been about to strike him. Instead, she raised her fingers, trembling slightly, and reached out to gently press her fingertips against the deep crease between his eyebrows.

She stroked the skin softly, trying to physically smooth away the nightmare that was haunting him.

The moment her fingers touched his skin, Jarrod let out a long, shuddering sigh. The deep crease in his brow relaxed. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He found peace in her scent.

Caroline let her hand fall to his chest. She lay there in silence, listening to the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the wall.

It was 8:00 a.m.

The quiet sanctuary of the bedroom was a temporary illusion. The real world was waiting.

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