“It’s freezing cold out here!” I tell him, in case he hasn’t noticed.
“I need to see the wounds if I’m going to tend to them.” The responder pours what I assume is antiseptic over Tristan’s back and then his upper arm. “I’ll throw a blanket over him once I bandage the wounds.”
“I’m going with him to the hospital.”
“Are you his wife? Girlfriend?” he asks while he applies gauze to the wounds.
“Yes.”
Tristan scoffs. “No, she’s not. She doesn’t know me.”
“Tristan!” Though, I know why he’s denying our relationship or whatever this is in public. I love and hate him for still trying to protect me, but I’ll say I’m his wife if it gets me a ride in that ambulance so I can stay by his side.
“He took the bullets meant for me,” I explain to the paramedic. “What does that tell you?”
“That he’s either an insane stranger, or he knows you so well he would rather die than live without you.” The guy grins.
I don’t know if he’s teasing or not. “Is he…is it that bad?”
“He’ll be fine. As soon as those bullets are yanked out, he’ll get to go home, probably tonight if he doesn’t spike a fever.”
“Can’t you just pull them out here and be done with it?” Tristan asks.
“No, sir. Sit tight while I go help my partner with the vehicle occupants.”
When he jogs off without retrieving a blanket, I slip off my coat and wrap it around Tristan’s shoulders.
“I’m fine. Keep your coat on.”
“No. I’m wearing two layers, and your skin is bare,” I point out. He tries to shrug the fabric off his shoulders, but I grab thetwo halves at the front and hold it tight. Cupping the side of his face with my free hand, I ask him, “How are you feeling, really?”
“Sleepy.”
“That’s probably the blood loss.”
“More like the cum loss,” he whispers while waggling his eyebrows. I go to slap his arm but stop when I remember the wounds. His eyes are glazed and heavy, making me wonder if it’s worse than he’s letting on. At the sound of more sirens, we both glance over and find another ambulance arriving.
“You should let them check your head and take you to the hospital to get it looked at.”
“My head is fine.”
Tristan clenches his jaw. “Go, Kirsten. Before somebody sees us.”
“I don’t care who sees us!”
“Yes, you do. Those donors aren’t going to give you big checks if they see you associating with a mob enforcer. Not to mention, all the votes you’ll lose…”
Leaning forward, I brush my lips over his, silencing his concerns for me. “I don’t care,” I repeat.
With a grin lifting his lips, Tristan grabs the back of my neck with his uninjured left hand and pulls me closer, not to kiss me but to bury his face in my neck and hair. I hear his deep inhale, then his staggered breath before he whispers, “No matter what, don’t pull out the plug.”
My heart sinks at the concern in his voice. He’s hurt worse than I thought. “Nobody is going to pull the plug on you,” I promise him as I run my fingers through the back of his hair, holding his face to my neck, even as his lips lower and place a kiss on my chest where the top button of my dress shirt is undone. His tongue darts out, sweeping into the dip of my cleavage.
“I was talking about the plug in your ass, sweetheart. I want to be the one who takes it out tonight when we get home.”
I tug on his hair hard enough to pull his face from my bosom. “You are awful. I’m sincerely worried about you, and you’re thinking about fucking my ass.”
“Thinking about fucking your virgin ass might be all that keeps me from going toward the light.”
