Talia's POV
"You didn't treat that wound?" I asked.
The words slipped out before I could stop myself.
Ramon didn't answer. He didn't even look at me. He just turned his back and began removing his shirt like the question didn't matter.
That was when I saw it.
That same wound.
The one at his side.
The one that started all of this. The blood. The chase. The rogues. Me.
My chest tightened.
"This wound doesn't look treated," I said again, quieter this time.
He shrugged off the shirt and tossed it aside. "Don't worry about me. Just go to sleep."
Sleep?
I laughed softly, without humor. "Do I look like I can sleep?"
He didn't respond.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to me, shoulders tense. I stared at the wound, my heart beating faster. It was healing, but not the way it should have.
Not the way a wound should heal if it had been properly treated.
I moved before he could stop me.
"Let me see," I said.
"It's fine," he replied immediately. "I'm fine."
"I didn't say you weren't," I said, stepping closer. "Just... let me."
He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at me. Our eyes met.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Something passed between us. I didn't know what it was. A challenge. A question. Maybe trust.
Slowly, he sighed.
Then he let the shirt fall completely from his hand.
I swallowed.
The wound was ugly. Not terrifying, but deep enough that it should have closed more by now. Angry red lines crossed his skin, faint but stubborn.
"Where's your first aid kit?" I asked.
"Over there," he said, nodding toward the wardrobe.
I walked to it, my legs feeling strangely heavy. I found the kit easily and brought it back, kneeling in front of him without thinking.
As I cleaned the wound, my heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I focused on my hands, on the careful movements, on not letting my fingers shake.
I prayed silently that he wouldn't comment on how nervous I was.
"You should have treated this," I murmured.
"I didn't have time," he replied.
"That's not an excuse."
A corner of his mouth twitched. "So you're really worried about me,eh?"
"I'm not," I said. "I just... care."
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
My hands paused.
I waited for him to say something. Anything.
Instead, I felt it.
His fingers.
Warm. Gentle.
They touched my face, brushing my cheek with the back of his knuckles. My breath caught. I froze, afraid that if I moved, the moment would break.
I didn't look up.
I couldn't.
I finished cleaning the wound, wrapped it carefully, and sat back on my heels. But I didn't move away. His hands were still on my face, thumbs resting just below my cheekbones.
"Thank you," he said softly.
The sound of his voice like that, low, sincere, sent a strange ache through my chest.
"Look at me, Talia," he said.
I hesitated.
Then, slowly, he lifted my chin with his fingers.
Our eyes met.
And I felt it.
Not just attraction. Not just desire.
Something deeper.
Like a pull. Like a spark. Like being seen and pulled closer at the same time.
I didn't even have a name for it.
He leaned in, giving me time to pull away.
I didn't.
His lips touched mine slowly. No rush. No hunger. Just warmth. Just presence.
He kissed me like the world outside didn't exist. Like there were no rogues, no threats, no fear. Just this moment.
My hands moved on their own, gripping his shoulders, feeling the strength there. His hand slid to my waist, steadying me.
Then he lifted me effortlessly and sat me on his lap.
I gasped softly, breaking the kiss, my forehead resting against his.
"We shouldn't," I whispered.
"I know," he replied.
Neither of us moved.
The room felt quiet in a way that wasn't empty. His arms around me were firm but gentle, like he was holding something precious instead of dangerous.
My heart was still racing.
But for the first time since I came here...
I wasn't afraid.
His lips found mine again, this time,no rush, just taking it in.
Then his hands began to unbutton my shirt, and unhook my brassiere.
I couldn't resist, didn't want to resist.
His mouth wrapped around my nipples, circling it, teasing, tantalizing.
I arched myself closer to him,willing our bodies to join.
Then his hands began going down, sliding into my pants, touching me.
I gasped.
His name on my lips.
"Ramon, don't stop," I said.
"Didn't plan on that," he replied.
Very slowly, without breaking the kiss, he laid me on the bed and began kissing me again, my neck, my shoulders, down to my breast,his hands circling one while his lips closing in on the other nipple.
Gently, he peeled off my shirt and removed my trousers, leaving me vulnerable.
I wrapped my hands over my chest.
He didn't say anything but began to take off his shirt.
His shoulders were broad, very sculpted.
Very unconsciously, I licked my lips.
"Like what you see, eh?" He asked.
He began to unbuckle his trousers and then he stopped and asked me; "Want to help me?"
And just then, a knock came in.
