Page 85 of Speechless
He damn near tripped over Luna as he dashed out, swore the dog shot him an amused look as he stumbled, righted himself. Within a minute, he had the sheets whipped off and tossed toward the laundry basket, one ear cocked toward the bathroom. Getting a fresh set back on took a little longer, but he spared a second to admire his handiwork when the bed was made to his satisfaction.
When he walked back to the bathroom, sidestepping Luna laid in the doorway, he cleared his throat meaningfully as he caught Jenna sat on the toilet, peering between her spread thighs. “What on earth are you doing, baby?”
Her head jerked up guilty, eyes wide. “Nothing?”
His eyebrow quirked. Something worried her, he could tell by the set of her shoulders and the quick flashes of the child he saw in her eyes. That transition fascinated him, how she allowed one persona to simply slide over the other on a whim. He couldn’t stem the pride of knowing she was learning how to control that shift of nature.
“Want me to take a look?” he asked gently. “In a professional capacity?”
Jenna turned beet red and shook her head. “I’m just sore.”
Connor slipped into the bathroom, tested the water and found it just about perfect beneath the clouds of bubbles. “Once you’ve had something to eat, I’ll get you some mild pain relief to take the edge off. We’ll soak some of that discomfort away first, see if you’ll relax a bit.”
“I’m relaxed,” she protested.
Deciding it didn’t matter he’d already had a shower, Connor stepped into the bath and beckoned her over, guiding her in with him before he sank into the mass of bubbles. Hands on her hips, he helped her sit between his spread legs, settling her back against his front.
She yelped as heated water touched tender flesh, then let out a moan as the heat sank deep. The stiffness in her posture melted away, leaving her limp against him as she sighed in relief.
“Nowyou’re relaxing,” he corrected, grasping her arm by the elbow. Inch by inch, he massaged her forearm with strong fingers, elbow to fingers. He nuzzled her nape as he worked on eradicating every ounce of tension in her body. Pain could seize a person from top to toe if it hit strong enough.
By the time he got around to washing her, Jenna was a boneless noodle dozing lightly in a sea of deflating bubbles. Painstakingly, he sponged her everywhere, taking great care between her thighs. This was the kind of aftercare he loved. The connection linking them thrummed contentedly—or maybe that was just Jenna.
Connor breathed in the scent of her hair, decided to leave it for now. She was quiet and happy; disturbing her seemed counter-productive to his goal.
“Sure we can’t do it again?” she murmured sleepily.
“Positive, Jenna. Just rest for a while.”
“Okay.”
They stayed there for an hour, with Connor using his toes to flick the hot water on and off when needed. The most relaxing hour he’d spent, idly stroking her flesh with trailing fingertips, thinking easy thoughts and glowing with accomplishment at how far she’d come in such a short time.
That bitter night just two months ago seemed like it was years ago. They’d spent so much time together, constantly, that eight weeks felt more like a year. But she’d needed it, that one-on-one bond she trusted, yearned for. Two months or twenty years, it didn’t matter.
They were fated, regardless of time sailing down the stream.
Water splashed as her leg jerked. The easy mood dissipated in a second, roiling into vicious tension that struck Jenna’s body like a spear. Her arms thrashed, hitting water, smacking hard against the sides of the tub before Connor braceleted them both in one hand. Her lean body arched, her feet kicking. Water exploded from the bath in waves and droplets alike.
Connor held onto her tight, hooking his legs over hers until he pinned her on top of his body. His free arm curved over her flat belly as it heaved. “Jenna. Jenna, baby, it’s a nightmare.”
The sounds coming from her were brutal, clawing at his composure. They were all too reminiscent of someone being strangled.
Choked, breathless sobs squeaked free as her face turned red. Purple as the noises cut off. Blue when her body went lifeless in his hold and he couldn’t feel her chest rising and falling beneath his arm.
Fuck.
The pools of water on the floor turned into a flood as Connor surged up, both arms wrapped around Jenna’s torso. Moving quickly, carefully, he stepped from the tub and laid her on the floor, getting his first look at her face.
He’d seen fresh death before. Been part of it, held hands and administered pain relief to those suffering on their journey to the end.
“Not this fucking time,” he muttered, covering her mouth and pinching her nose shut, forcing as much air into her lungs as he could summon. He began chest compressions, almost bouncing off her ribs with the effort to kickstart her heart again.
Over and over, he breathed and bounced.
Whining, Luna huddled in the doorway. Why couldn’t the fucking dog play Lassie and go fetch him some help?
“Connor?” Sarah’s voice drifted up the stairs. “Connor, are you here?”