The first thing I notice as I'm pulled from sleep is the body shifting underneath mine. I instinctively wrap my leg tighter around theirs and rub my cheek against a soft t-shirt and warm chest. For a second I feel safe, safer than I've felt in a long time.

The body beneath me freezes and just like that, I startle awake fully. My eyes fly open and I sit up quickly, staring into Crow's shocked face. "Oh, sorry." My face flushes as I attempt to detangle our legs and the duvet.

"It's ok. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." He replies gruffly, the tips of his ears going pink as the only sign of his embarrassment as he quickly dives from the bed and pulls his trousers on.

I shuffle away, pulling the sheets around me as though that will help somehow disguise the fact I was rubbing every inch of me over him seconds earlier.

He's watching me and not for the first time, I don't have a clue what is going on inside his head. "I'm going to go and get us some breakfast. Any preference?" He says quietly, suddenly refusing to meet my eye.

My stomach grumbles loud enough that he definitely heard, "Oh no, I'm happy with anything. Thank you."

He gives a half smile and grabs his jacket off the back of the chair before quickly making his way out. I stare at the closed door and wonder why I didn't ask if he was on the menu.

No naughty Gemma. I shake my head to get some sense into it and slip from the bed. Yesterday's clothes are on the dresser where I left them and in the cold light of day I inspect the remains.

The bodysuit is a lost cause, but the jeans are passable despite the rips. Pulling a camisole from the pile Katy gave me, I trek into the bathroom and begin the slow and painful process of getting dressed.

The top is too small and rides up enough that the bandages are visible, but it will have to do. Reaching for my boots, which are still on the floor where I kicked them off last night, I groan in pain.

"Gemma?" Crow's concerned voice calls out.

I hadn't heard him get back and I don't know if he was really quick getting breakfast or if I'm really slow at dressing. Perhaps both? "I'm OK. I'll be out in just a second." I shout back.

I sit heavily on the toilet seat and reach for the boots again, hoping the fact I'm closer to them will somehow make it easier.

I grab the first triumphantly and stretch to slip it onto my foot, but this time the pain is more intense, like a white hot bolt shooting through my ribs. I cry out despite myself and grab the toilet roll holder for support to stop me crumpling from where I am perched.

Before I can do anything, the door splinters open and Crow rushes in. "Crow! I told you I was OK. I'm just trying to get my boots on." I respond, eyes wide at the massive overreaction.

My heart is pounding in my chest and I have to remind it that we are safe and not reliving past trauma.

"You sounded hurt." He retorts defensively scrubbing a hand through his hair as he stands there, practically filling the doorway with his broad shoulders.

"Well, it wasn't fun, but I'm fine." I tut as I try to work out if I can just hook the shoe with my foot and wiggle it in.

He looks at the boots and then back at me. "There's no shame in asking for help."

"I don't need help. I told you I'm fine."

Crow rolls his eyes and then, before I can protest, drops to his knees and starts to slide my foot into the boot.

"I-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know you're OK, but I want to eat breakfast some time this year so you're going to just have to accept my help, dammit." He mutters without looking at me.

I want to resist and be the strong independent woman I always try to be but something about how gentle he is with me causes that thought to dry up before my words of protest can form.

I don't have a foot fetish, but the way he cups my calf and guides my foot into the shoe before deftly tying the laces has me wondering what else he could be doing with those lovely hands.

He looks up from tying the final piece and our eyes connect. I'm sure my feelings are written across my face as I try to disguise how turned on I am right now with a laugh. "Thanks for the help, Prince Charming. Now did someone say breakfast?"

My response would have been perfectly delivered if I didn't sound like I was practising a porn star level breathy voice.

Crow seems to instantly realise the inappropriateness of his position at my feet and scrambles to his own. "Yeah, I just grabbed a bunch of stuff. I didn't know what you wanted." He replies gruffly, retreating back to the bedroom.

I take in the state of the door as I follow him.  "They just remodelled." I say sadly.

"Oh yeah, I'll fix it, don't worry." He says and then gestures to the spread he has across the bed.

Toast and an assortment of spreads, a bagel, scrambled egg, bacon, sausages, and a selection of pasties. "Where did all this come from?" I whisper, mouth watering and eyes wide with surprise.

"The...kitchen?" He says slowly, as though it were obvious, "You're lucky Tank was already cooking and he let me grab some stuff. Take whatever you want and I'll eat the rest."

"Who's Tank?" I ask, reaching for the pastries and jammy toast, my sweet tooth unable to resist.

"He's an Enforcer. Good guy." Crow nods and begins crunching on a crispy piece of bacon.

"Thank you for this, but you didn't have to go through all this trouble. I could have gone to the kitchen to eat." I say, still a little stunned. His face falls and I quickly rush to reassure him, "I really do appreciate it though. This is amazing!"

He shrugs like it doesn't bother him. "I just didn't think you'd want all the guys looking at you."

I examine the look on his face and realise he didn't want all the guys looking at me. The thought leaves me curiously warm inside. I'm not an idiot, I know I'm relatively pretty and pretty privilege has really come in handy sometimes. So I'm used to the looks, the whistles and the stares.

It doesn't mean it's OK but it's nice to know someone is trying to protect me from them.

Taking a bite into the toast hurts and I wince, feeling my lip to see if I split it again. It stings, but my finger comes away dry.

It occurs to me then that maybe that's why Crow didn't want people to see me. I probably look a enough of a state to put people off their breakfasts at least.

We eat the rest of the food in silence, as I occasionally sneak looks at him. True to his word, he eats everything I don't.

"So what now?" I ask quietly when we finish.

"Now," he sighs, "I get you home."