“You could.” He pretended to ponder. “But you’re stuff’s already up here.”
“Then I’ll take it back down.”
When Poppy started for the hardshell suitcases, Jax stepped in front of them, blocking her path. “You’re staying in here, and that’s final.”
“I’m sorry; it’sfinal?” Arched brows rose high as she rested her hands on her hips.
They were hips he could still feel, filling the palms of his hands as he’d lifted her into his arms and brought her to orgasm against his apartment wall.
Refusing to acknowledgewhyhe was so insistent that she stay in his bed, Jax ignored her attempt to argue and went into the bathroom.
“Fresh towels are kept here.” He motioned to one of the many cabinets beneath the long double-sink vanity before ending the tour pointing out the obvious. “Shower, tub, toilet.”
“Jax, I can’t—”
“It’s fine, Pop.” He removed his black jacket to get some relief from the growing heat.
He’d sent Ivan ahead of them to make sure there was enough food, water, and other amenities to last them at least two weeks.
Jax had also instructed his trusted friend to crank up the heat in preparation of their arrival so Poppy wouldn’t be uncomfortably cold. But for a guy his size with his muscle mass…
Jesus, it’s hot in here.
“Jax, you’re bleeding!”
The alarm in Poppy’s voice had him following her line of site. A quick glance at his left bicep revealed a cut in his arm he hadn’t even realized he had.
Had much worse.
“That needs to be cleaned.” Poppy rushed over to him.
But Jax put his hand up to halt her movements. “It’s fine. Just a scratch.”
“That’s no scratch.”
The stubborn woman scowled. Ignoring his directive, she made her way to where he stood and began inspecting the injury with what he could only assume to be her emergency room nurse face.
“We need to clean this out and bandage it up so it doesn’t get infected.”
“Seriously, Pop.” Jax tried to pull himself free of her grasp. “It’s really not a big—”
“It is to me.” She kept her hold steady.
Her sharp tone stilled his movements. Could he rip his arm away from her hand with little to no force at all? Absolutely. Did he?
Not a fucking chance.
Though he could be wrong, Jax had a suspicious feeling that she needed this. After being chased, shot at, and damn near wrecking at a high rate of speed…Poppy was in what the SEALs called a hypervigilant state.
For the Teams, this usually presented as a heightened state of awareness bordering on paranoia. Constantly looking around, checking perimeters, head-on-a-swivel surveillance to ensure there were no incoming threats present in their vicinity.
For Poppy, it apparently came in the form of the need to care for him. To treat his wound—which seriously wasn’t all that bad—in order to fulfill a desperate need to do something productive.
A need to expel the sudden burst of nervous energy brought on by nearly dying, as well as witnessing the deaths of the four men trying to kill them.
Jax understood what she was feeling. He understood it too fucking well. So rather than argue against the unnecessary attention to the minor cut on his arm, he gave her what she needed most in that moment.
“Hang on.” He did pull his arm free then, but only to find a more comfortable position for himself and for her. “There’s a first-aid kit under the sink.” He went to the long, extra deep bathtub and sat on its edge. “Pretty basic stuff, but it should have everything you need.”