38

Allison

Afterward, we shower together. He soaps me up, quietly cleaning every inch of my body. He even gently cleans my wounds, and when we're done, he replaces the bandages.

"Breakfast," he says, taking me downstairs.

"I was thinking a light workout first," I complain, but he's not having any of it.

"You got your workout," he says, the lewd bastard.

Orin's already cooking, whistling away, and gives me a wave as Gregory sits me down at the kitchen table, pours me some coffee, gives me the paper, and starts to rub my shoulders.

"Relax," he says, kneading away the knots.

Where the hell did this man come from, and why does he have fingers like a professional musician?

"I'm working hard to understand why you're suddenly acting like you want to spoil me," I say, trying to swat his hands away halfheartedly.

"My pregnant wife was put in danger yesterday."

"Are you feeling guilty? I didn't realize you were capable."

"I didn't either," he mutters.

"You shouldn't let it worry you. I made that d