I swat his hands away. “No, you’re not.” His eyes are a little glazed, and a lump is forming around his eye. Knowing my luck I’ve probably blinded him. “Shit. Are you okay?”

Blood oozes from a gash on his forehead, just beneath his hairline. Oh no. Blood. All of a sudden I feel lightheaded.

“We, um, need to get you to a hospital.”

“What happened?”

Christ, he has amnesia. This just gets worse. He’ll sue me, and I’ll have to stand up in court and provide a play by play of the incident. I might as well end it all now.

The offending dildo is within reach of his head. I have never been more mortified in my life. Could I pick it up without him noticing?

I lean forward to snatch it. Rocco grumbles and sits up, his head swaying. I make my move and reach for the dildo.

“No wonder you were moaning. Look at the size of that.”

“Shut up.” I throw the object on the bed, and drag a stream of tissues from the box on the bedside table. I don’t do blood, and Rocco is bleeding. The bright red liquid creates a stream down the side of his temple.

I clutch at my stomach. I don’t need to be sick right now.

Shit. I’ve cut him open good and proper. I hand him the tissues and guide his hand to put pressure on the wound. Saliva builds in my mouth. I force myself to swallow it down.

Pretend it’s strawberry jam.

“You bare under that sexy thing you’re wearin’?” he says, his voice gravelly.

“What’s it to you?”

“Just give me something else to focus on, huh? I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck.”

I can’t believe I threw it at him. I was so fucking angry, and seeing his cocky face pushed me over the edge. Too bad I missed out on an orgasm first. If I had been flying high on Cloud O, I wouldn’t have reacted that way. And Rocco wouldn’t be potentially blind and bleeding.

“Fine. I’m not wearing any underwear. That shit tends to get in the way when you’re getting yourself off.”

His eyes roll back into his head, and his shoulders jerk up and down. A low, raspy chuckle leaves his mouth, gaining volume as the fucker laughs hard.

“Please don’t wet yourself. I can barely handle blood, and there are other bodily fluids I have zero tolerance for.”

“I won’t piss myself, Suds,” he assures me.

“Thank God for that.”

“Just help me up.”

On unsure footing, he stands and holds onto my shoulders for support, the bloodied tissues falling to the ground. Rocco’s dark, glassy eyes flit around my face and down to my chest. His head dips, as if it’s too heavy for his neck to support. Fuck, does he have concussion?

“Can you see?” I ask, using my finger under his chin to draw his gaze back to me. He brushes his thumbs back and forth over the curve of my shoulder, causing goosebumps to prickle over my body. “Well? Can you?”

“All I see are nipples,” he says, straight faced. I glance down, and there they are, perky and poking through the sheer fabric of my lingerie. Perfect. Something moves below my gaze, drawing my eyes to his black-and-white checked boxers. The bulge grows, tenting his shorts and creating a giant shadow on the floor. Bloody hell. He’s hard? Really? And why am I now thinking about how big he is?

“Very funny, De Loser. So you can see.”

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’ like a smart arse.

“Can you stand by yourself?” I shake my head as his stupid grin grows. Is he faking being dazed and confused?

“Yup,” he repeats, in the same annoying way.

“Then get your inked paws off me so I can drive you to the hospital.”

He leans down and picks up the tissues, trying to sneak a peek at my vag while he’s there. “Are you wearing that?” he says, with a raise of his eyebrow.

“You dirty bastard. Do you want me to throw it at you again?”

“Chillax, Suds. Kidding.”

“Get a washer from the bathroom, and hold it on your forehead while I get changed.”A few minutes later, we’re both fully clothed. Rocco grits his teeth as he climbs into the front seat of my piece-of-shit car.

“Is something wrong with your leg?”

“Nah, just my dud knee flaring up.”

What a relief. An existing injury. Just as well, otherwise it’d be another thing for him to sue me for.

“What happened to your knee?” I have to ask.

“I used to race motocross as a kid with my … anyhow, I fucked up my knee, had surgery and couldn’t ride after that.”

Shit. That’s too bad. “Is that why you got into mechanics?”

“Yeah. Bikes are kind of a family thing. ”

“Cool.”

For the next few minutes on our way to the hospital, Rocco is quiet. Small victory.

“So did you get yourself off?” he asks.

I grip the steering wheel tight, and wonder if I’m a bad person for wishing in this moment that I’d hit him harder.

“Well, did you?” he prompts.

Yep. I’m a bad, bad person.

“I’m guessing by choosing not to answer that’s a big fat no.”

Concentrate on driving. Don’t say anything you don’t mean. Be careful; he might sue for civil damages yet. Pain … suffering …

“Don’t worry, Suds. You’re not the only one.”

I look over to read his face but find him staring out the window.

What the hell does that mean?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SOPHIE

“How did this happen?” the elderly nurse asks in a strong Scottish accent. She scowls as she looks over the admission form I helped Rocco fill out in the waiting area.

“Well, it’s a funny thing really,” I start with, and prepare to lie through my teeth.

“I’m speakin’ to Mr De Luca, lovey,” she says, and narrows her eyes at me.

“I was hit with a sex toy,” Rocco informs her.

“Jesus,” I mutter. I am never living this down. Ever.

“Okay, wasn’t expecting that one,” the nurse says, prodding at the swelling around his eye. “How did you get the cut?”

“Hit the door and fell,” he continues.

“Hmm. It’s a nasty one.”

Perfect. Just perfect.

The nurse takes some white gauze and tape from a shelf behind her, which is full of white packages and small containers. She dabs at the wound with a white cotton ball and then tapes a small square of gauze over it.

“It looks as though the bleeding is starting to stem, but you’re definitely going to need some attention.”

The nurse writes something else on the form and then guides us to a bed in the emergency room. She assists Rocco in lying back on the bed, which is raised at the head. She hands me an ice pack.

“If he can stand it, try hold this on his eye on and off for a few minutes at a time to try and reduce the swelling.”

Rocco winces as I help him place the small cool pack on his eye.

“One of the doctors will be with you in a moment, lovey,” the nurse says, before swaying her rounded hips out of the curtained area, leaving us alone.

We wait for at least twenty minutes, and still there’s no sign of anyone. Thank God Rocco has shut his mouth, because he was seriously doing my head in. He keeps looking at me strangely, so I keep scowling back.

“So here we are,” he pipes in with.

“Yeah, here we are.” I probably should say I’m sorry. If I did this to anyone else, I would have apologised profusely by now.

“I’m real sorry about this,” I say quietly. There, I said it. Now, let’s move on.

“Are you?” he asks, and folds his arms across his chest.

My eyebrows pull together, and I curse myself for thinking I could apologise and that he would react like a normal person. “Of course I am.”

“Okay, just checking.” He nods and smirks like an arse. I won’t react. He’s just baiting me.

I rub the sides of my temples and take in a deep breath, shaking as it fills my lungs. I look around, and there’s not a single soul at the nurses’ station. Where the hell is everyone?