When our eyes meet, his widen like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. “You’re awake.” The words come out as a whisper, like he’s afraid speaking too loud might make me disappear. Then his face transforms into this massive smile that makes my chest tight.
I try to speak, but my mouth moves without a sound coming out.What the hell?
His warm hand covers mine, and he lifts our joined hands to his face as if he’s been starving for my touch. The scrape of his stubble against my palm sends shivers up my arm, and my hand instinctively curves against his jaw. His eyes absolutely light up when I do that.
And the heart monitor next to me loses its damn mind.
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
Traitor machine, I think, but Rafael’s grip on my hand tightens as he watches me with this deep intensity that makes me feel like I’m the only thing in his universe. I try again to speak. “Ra–Rafael.”
He spins around and barks at someone to get the doctor before turning back to me. “Hello, sleeping beauty.”
“You–you look like hell.”
He chuckles, and he presses my hand harder against his jaw. “Thank you.” His eyes glisten—Rafael’s eyes are glistening. “I haven’t left this hospital room in four days, so forgive me for not looking like a bouquet of roses.” The lightness in his voice doesn’t match the rawness in his eyes.
Four days? I’ve been out for that long? “What happened?”
“The bullet missed your vital organs, but you lost a lot of blood… way too much blood.” His tone turns sharp, almost accusatory. “You went into shock, and even after the surgery was successful, you just refused to wake up.”
Surgery? I glance down at myself, suddenly aware of the tubes and wires connecting me to various machines.
The door opens behind Rafael, and he reluctantly steps back, dropping my hand. The loss of his warmth is immediate and painful, and I want to grab him back, to keep him close. “They need to check you.”
Three doctors walk in, and they look like they’ve been through their own personal hell. Rumpled clothes, exhausted eyes, the kind of weariness that comes from dealing with difficult patients—or in this case, difficult patient’s husbands.
They give Rafael a wide berth, but I don’t miss the wary glances they keep tossing his way as they approach my bed. Yeah, he’s definitely been making their lives miserable. The thought sends a wave of fierce affection through me.My protective, impossible man.
The doctors poke and prod and make concerned doctor noises while I resist the urge to tell them to hurry the hell up so I can have Rafael back.
“Her vitals are good. She might slip into a deep sleep again, but otherwise she seems to be on the right track for recovery,” one of the doctors says.
The second doctor gives me a small smile. “You’re a very lucky woman, Mrs. Moretti. If that bullet had hit you just a little more to the left, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”
Never to see Rafael again? I swallow hard, the possibility scaring the hell out of me. They fuss over me for a few more minutes—probably putting on a show for Rafael’s benefit—then finally escape.
Once we’re alone again, Rafael steps closer, lowering himself gingerly onto the edge of my bed.
I smile at him, unable to help myself. “Have you been terrorizing my doctors while I was unconscious?”
“Perhaps,” he answers softly with a smile of his own, then leans down to press kisses on my cheek, my temple, my nose. When his lips brush against my lashes, my eyes flutter closed. “You gave me quite the scare,amorina. Shaved a decade off my life.”
His declaration of love rings in my head as I open my eyes again. “I love you.”
“And I love you, more than I can ever describe with words. But I’ll show you every chance I get.” He presses this sweet, chaste kiss to my lips.
“Katie?” The memory of her getting shot hits me suddenly.
“She’s fine—I think.”
My heart stutters. “Youthink?”
Rafael sighs, and for the first time, he looks genuinely tired. “I’ve had my hands completely full with you. I thought my heart had been ripped straight out of my chest, and I was losing my mind. There was this unbearable pressure in my nose and chest and lungs, and water actually even pooled in my eyes and just… oozed out. I had zero control over it.” He shakes his head like he’s still amazed by his own humanity.
I stare at him, my mouth probably hanging open like an idiot. “You mean you—cried?”
“That has never happened to me before. Not even when I was still under my father’s thumb. I don’t want it to ever happen again.” He shudders, like the memory physically hurts him. “So you need to stay safe.”
