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Breathing out a low groan that barely made it past his throat and forcing his soaked feet to keep moving forward, CM Punk walked with his head held up high through the very illuminated corridor of floor fourteen of that town's Hilton Hotel.
The resort wasn't where he was staying, with the addition of a tour bus to his life on the road he didn't have the necessity of staying in a hotel anymore, at least as long he was traveling under a WWE schedule; but the Hilton was the place where he could find the person he was looking for so that was the reason why he was there.
As he moved along, he could feel a few curious eyes watching his very step and that almost made him chuckle; it seemed that nobody from the lobby to that floor had ever seen an unshaven banged up man; limping, heavily tattooed and holding his aching midsection with both his arms. Oh, and did he mention that he was dripping wet as well? Because he certainly was; wet and with dirt all over his hair and clothes…
So yeah, that night he was truly a sight to be seen and he knew it, but that everyone was looking at him as if he was a serial killer searching for his next victim only elevated his barometer of annoyance even more higher that it already was and that made him feel as if he was rotting in his sour mood.
Clearing his throat and turning his head to the side so he could stare straight into the eyes of a man in a dark suit that seemed to be watching him with indiscrete suspicion, Punk twisted his lips into a bitter grin.
"What, can't a man slip down a stairs without everybody staring at him as if he was a member of Al Qaeda?"
To that, the man mumbled something about calling security under his breath and disappeared behind the door of his room.
"Dipshit."
Snarling his lips, Punk moved his head straight forward, walking as best as he could until he made it to the door he has been looking for.
Once in front of that door, the WWE Superstar knocked two times and waited, dropping one arm limply to his side while the other one moved to his head, his fingers tangling into his hair.
Now, if he had to be completely honest, he would confess that was feeling like shit. His hip was bothering like never before, his ribs hurt with every step he took and he had a pounding headache that was making him feel kind of dizzy.
Oh, and that was without mentioning that he was uncomfortable as hell; his wet shirt was sticking to his chest and stomach, his cargo shorts felt too heavy for his body to hold and his sneakers were full of water. There was nothing worse than walking with your feet drowning inside your shoes and unfortunately, that was his case that night.
Groaning once more, he closed his eyes tight shut; his forehead resting against the wall in front of him until he heard the door begin to open.
"Oh my God, what happened to you?"
Listening to the velvety sound of that voice gasp the question and opening his eyes to slits, Punk moved his head to the side and looked straight at the woman.
"Are you going to let me in or will you leave me out here so that dipshit can call security on me?"
At those words, Maryse opened her warm hazel eyes as wide as they would go and shook her head from side to side; but then she moved to the side so he could walk in.
Blinking slowly, the Chicago native put his feet on the move once again and dragged himself into the room.
"What happened to you?" Maryse asked once again, closing the door of her room.
"To me?" He asked, walking aimlessly around. "Not much, I just got ran over by someone's bitter ex-boyfriend." He said with a shrug, his tone coming off as flat and disinterested.
"Phil," Maryse said, grabbing him by the arm and making him turn to her. The motion made him feel like he wanted to puke and he closed his eyes for a few seconds, waiting for the sensation to disappear.
The feeling went away as fast as it came and when it was time to open his eyes again, he found Maryse standing right in front of him.
Punk watched her in silence, his olive green eyes drinking on the sight of her with extreme care. As she stood there, he noticed that she had her hair down, that her face was clean of any make-up and that to cover her body she only had a short silk bathrobe that wasn't leaving too much for his imagination.
Not that he needed to recur to his imagination to know what was underneath the thin fabric, he knew by memory the wonders of her body and if he wanted to take a look, he was sure that the only thing he had do to was lift his hand and pull at it open.
But that wasn't what he came looking for… well, truth be told he didn't know what he came looking for. His mind was a bit fussy…
"I thought you were going to wait for me at the tour bus." He said, blinking slowly and referring to the last time they had seen each other.
It has been earlier that night and in his tour bus like he said; short after a steamy sexual meeting in one of the bathrooms of the arena they were performing that night and exactly after a brutal encounter with Maryse's ex-boyfriend.
Sure, their time there has been a short and weird experience where they argued, kissed and then argued some more, but he has been expecting that she was going to wait for him there to finish up their conversation.
He didn't know exactly why he expected that from her, but after some of the things they said back there, the least she could have done was wait for him to come back from his match and finish coming clear to him…
Feeling a pair of hands grab his face, Punk blinked once again and shook himself back to the present. Maryse was once again right in front of him, her eyes fixed deeply in his as he stared back.
"What happened to you?" She asked slowly, not for the first time and to the question, Punk blew out a breath.
"I don't… I ran into Mike when I was walking out of the arena and well, he kind of threw his car at me. Ah, but don't you think I just lay there. The stupid son of a bitch tried to finish me off and I gave him the surprise of his life. If you think I look fucked up, then you should take a look at him."
Nodding and remembering a few of the details of that encounter, Phil licked his upper teeth and snorted.
It may be true that Mike surprised him and that he fucked up his hip with the impact of the car and then his head when it hit the hard concrete as he fell, but once the initial shock wore down and moved by a rush of adrenaline, he got back to his feet and right underneath the heavy rain that was falling, he beat the crap out of the younger man.
Sure, he needed the help of a few objects laying around but he did the job and at the end, he was the one that walked victorious and with a sadistic smile while Mike remained there, groaning in pain and cussing him through clenched teeth.
"And you came straight here? Phil… you need to go to a hospital."
Breathing in and moving his eyes all over her face, Punk shook his head. "I'm okay, I've been a lot worse so trust me, this is nothing a couple of aspirins and an ice/hot pad won't take care of. Do you happen to have any of those?"
Maryse shook her head, her hands moving down to his chest.
"Then a shower and some sleep?" He asked flatly.
Lowering her eyes, Maryse pouted her lips and dropped her hands away from him. "You are going to take the shower but I'm going to keep an eye on you and if I see that you need it, I'm going to take you to a doctor."
"Aww, is that concern I hear in your voice?"
"Phil, you just got ran over and look at your eyes, you are looking and acting like you could have a concussion."
With that said, she grabbed his face in her hands once again and tilted it towards her. Once she had in where she wanted it, she looked straight into his olive green eyes and scanned them over.
Punk watched her in return, studying the warmness of her own hazel eyes and then lowering his gaze towards her full lips. It was amazing that even without a trace of make-up, the woman was stunning, her lips looked soft and inviting, her eyes clear and sparkling and her eyelashes long and perfect.
He could never understand why women hid her real beauty underneath so much make-up and in Maryse's case, he was wondering about that.
"Have I ever told you that you are beautiful? I always thought so, kind of bitchy and stubborn as fuck but still beautiful."
Arching an eyebrow and pushing the inside of her cheek with her tongue, Maryse tilted her head to the side as her lips curved into the phantom of a smile. "See, you definitely have a concussion or you wouldn't be saying that to me. Come on, let's get you out of those clothes."
Grabbing him by the hand, Maryse guided the tall man into the bathroom. Once there and with the two of them standing next to the shower, she helped him kick off his shoes and wet socks and the she started to take off his shirt.
The effort of lifting his arms to help her made him wince in pain and when she started to slide his pants and boxers down the tender flesh of his hips, he had to close his eyes and bite down his tongue.
But he never said a thing, not to complain and definitely not to tell her of the irony that it was in a shower where their affair started. Instead of pointing that fact out, he just watched as she undressed him and when that was done, he complied to her command of stepping into the shower.
"Call me if you need anything." After saying that and turning the shower on, Maryse left Phil to shower as he could.
Sighing out loud and resting his head against the tiled wall of the shower, the Chicago native closed his eyes and allowed the spray of the water to hit his aching muscles, but he did no effort whatsoever to clean up.
He remained there for a long while, his mind drifting away until he heard Maryse talking to him.
Opening his eyes, he saw that the woman was peeking into the shower and the next thing he knew, she was sliding in to help him clean up. His mind was still fussy, but he was aware that she washed his hair, soaped him real nice and then helped him rinse.
That was when he knew he was really fucked up, because he could definitely feel the way her hands slid and touched him all over and yet he didn't feel like lifting the woman in his arms to take her right there, in the shower.
Hell, he didn't think he had the strength in him to lift her anyway so it was good that his body wasn't reacting to her touch.
Ah, but even though he wanted to feel her close for one reason or another so sliding a hand to her waist, he pulled her to him.
"No, I'm going to get all wet." Maryse complained because she was still wearing her bathrobe, but she easily let herself be dragged to him and when he kissed her lips briefly, her complains were muted.
The kiss was short, just a meeting of lips that lasted three seconds and then he pulled apart and rested his forehead against hers.
Breathing in, he slid his hand to her back and shook his head. "I think I'm really fucked up this time."
"Let me get you into a hospital." She mumbled, placing her hand to his sides and tilting her head up in a way that her lips were a breath away from his.
Shaking his head, Phil opened his eyes to look at her. "I'll sleep it off and I'll be okay."
"Phil-" She started to say, but the man cut her off with another brief kiss.
"Just let me sleep here with you, I promise I'll behave."
Smiling and rolling her eyes, Maryse moved her hand to the back of his head. "That's why I'm worried. But come on, let's get to bed then."
Smiling back, Punk closed his eyes and puffed out a breath. "That's all I want to…"
He was sure that when morning came, he was going to feel a hell of a lot better; he just needed some rest and as weird as it sounded, Maryse by his side…
