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Tilly
“Dance with me, Matilda.”
“You want to dance with me now?” I tug the hem of the T-shirt I’m wearing down.
After Sebastian and I talked about the flowers, I went to shower. He said he was going to do the same. I expected him to ask me to join him in the main bathroom, but he didn’t.
I took my time under the warm running water, relishing in the feeling of the calm that washed over me.
When I was done I towel dried my hair, smoothed lotion over my skin and slid on a new pair of red lace panties and this T-shirt.
It’s the same T-shirt I was wearing the night we met.
His hand skims the waistband of his pajama bottoms.
I can see the outline of his erection from where I’m standing near the hallway that leads back to my bedroom.
“On the floor.” He looks down as he reaches out a hand to me. “I’m not dancing on the table.”
Soft music is filling the room. It’s coming from the mini speaker I left on the kitchen counter the other night. He must have synced his phone to it.
I take his hand as I near him. “Is this what you were listening to the night we met?”
He nods when he scoops me into his strong arms. “It’s relaxing. It soothes me.”
He needs that. I see the pain that lives just behind his eyes. It’s always there, even if he thinks he can mask it with a smile.
One of his hands slides down to the small of my back. The other grabs hold of my hand to hold it next to his chest.
He smells incredible. Soap mixed with the unique scent that is only his.
I could wrap myself in that forever.
Forever.
I shake my head to chase the thought away.
We sway back and forth to the music, neither of us saying anything.
He finally clears his throat when the song stops and another begins. “I was shot years ago.”
I stop in place and look up. “What?”
He reaches up to where my hand is resting on his left shoulder. He slides it down a few inches. “It’s a small wound. The bullet entered here and exited through my back.”
I squint to have a better look and I see it. There’s a circular scar beneath the ink of his tattoo. At first glance you wouldn’t notice it, but it’s shockingly apparent to me now that I know it’s there.
I instantly wonder why Maya never mentioned it to me.
“When did that happen?” I inch my fingers over his skin to touch the scar.
He sucks in a breath. “I was only on the force for a few months at the time.”
I wasn’t living here then. I was still immersed in my life back in San Francisco. News of the shooting of a police officer clear across the country wouldn’t have caught my attention.
That’s different now that I know a man who puts his life at risk every single day to protect others; to protect me.
“How?” I inch back, feeling suddenly unsteady on my feet.
“It was a domestic disturbance call.” He reaches for both of my hands. “I walked into the middle of a family argument. My partner wasn’t out of the car yet before the shots were fired.”
“Shots?”
“Two rounds.” He squeezes my hands. “The first hit me. Thankfully it was a lucky shot and his aim was shit with the next one. It went straight into the floor.”
I hate that he’s joking about this.
My heart is hammering inside my chest at the thought of blood gushing from his shoulder.
I could barely handle it the other night when he was punched in the face. I don’t know what I would do if he were shot.
“How bad was it?” I ask in a trembling voice.
“If it would have been a few inches lower, it would have ripped through my aorta.” He lifts one of my hands to the left side of his chest and presses it against his skin. “I had surgery, went to physical therapy and was out on foot patrol within the month.”
I try to find my composure, but my hand is shaking in his. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I told you so you’d know what this was...” He glides both of our hands over the scar. “Before you noticed it or before Julian mentioned it to you.”
Of course Julian would know. They’ve been friends forever.
“My sergeant at the time reprimanded me.” He looks at the floor. “I was eager. Way too fucking eager back then. I walked up to the door of that townhouse like I was indestructible.”
Sometimes when I look at him, I feel like he is.
“Kiss me, Sebastian.”
His lips brush against mine in a soft kiss and I pray that he won’t taste the single tear that’s running down my cheek.
