Page 94 of Obsession (Dark Revenge)
“It’s not meant to,” he said with a smirk.
I groaned in frustration, but it only seemed to amuse Jared further. He returned his attention to his food and quickly finished everything on his plate, obviously enjoying it more than he wanted to admit. Finally, it was my turn to eat, and after I finished, Jared told me to get up and follow him. I did as instructed, wondering if he intended to lock me in the cage again tonight. However, he turned toward his bedroom instead.
“I’m not going to my cage again?” I questioned.
“You’ll sleep beside me,” he replied curtly.
“Why?”
“Because I say so,” he answered firmly.
I followed him into his bedroom, but he continued into the bathroom.
“Do you want to shower together?” I taunted with a smirk.
“I want you to clean my wounds.”
He returned with another first aid kit and sat down on the couch in the middle of the room. He motioned for me to come closer, and I approached him. He grabbed my hips and pulled me down onto his lap.
“You know if I had the freedom to move, I could do this much easier,” I pointed out. “Sitting on your lap isn’t something doctors usually do when they tend to patients’ wounds.”
He smiled up at me, unfazed by my comment. I sighed and reached for the disinfectant beside us. However, Jared didn’t appear too tired to play games. He reached for my shirt and began unbuttoning it.
“Can I not work without a distraction?”
“No. You work through it,” he insisted.
I struggled to keep from rolling my eyes as he continued to slowly undress me. I finally lifted the disinfectant toward the wound on the side of his head. It didn’t seem to require much care, but just to be thorough, I began cleaning it. As I worked, Jared reached into the open portion of my shirt and found mybreast, giving it a squeeze. It sent a warm, electrifying sensation through me, and I pressed a bit harder against his wound, making him hiss in pain.
“Whoops,” I teased, grinning as I saw him glare at me. “You could just sit still.”
He withdrew his hand from my shirt, and for a brief moment, I pondered whether he was about to punish me once more for my attitude. Yet, to my astonishment, he refrained from doing so. Instead, he slid his hands lower, slipping them underneath my skirt, before firmly grabbing my ass and pulling me closer to him. Despite this, he remained relatively well-behaved.
I continued to focus on the wound on his head, gently cleaning it before applying a small bandage to hold it together. When I was satisfied with my work, I leaned back slightly.
“Off with your t-shirt,” I commanded, noticing the mischievous smile that crossed his face. “Not like that. I need to access the wound on your back.”
He remained silent but complied. I leaned back slightly, granting him the space required to remove his t-shirt, which he promptly discarded. Now, he sat before me wearing only the same pants he had on when he had led me into the blue room, and it became increasingly challenging to maintain my concentration. I did my best to focus on the task at hand, leaning over him to reach the wound on his shoulder.
As I worked, I couldn’t help but comment, “This would be so much easier if I could be behind you.” Surprisingly, he allowed me to move freely this time, and I leaned back, feeling puzzled.
“Go on,” he urged.
His unexpected willingness to allow me to move around left me with a sense of unease. It was unlike him to let me linger behind him, out of his line of sight, and my intuition told me that he might have something in mind.
As I dismounted from him and strolled around the couch, I observed him leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees. Despite my lingering mistrust, I leaned in cautiously and began to remove the old bandage, examining my work more closely.
“Oh, it’s not bad,” I commented.
“It’s awful, but it’s healing,” he replied.
I rolled my eyes this time, my smile hidden from his view as I continued to work on his wound. It seemed to be healing quite well, and as someone who had never sutured human flesh before, I couldn’t help but feel proud of my somewhat crooked work. He would undoubtedly have a noticeable scar, but the most crucial aspect was that the wound was healing properly.
After cleaning it thoroughly and applying a fresh bandage, I rested my hands on the back of the couch, admiring my work.
“All done,” I declared, prompting Jared to glance over his shoulder, his eyes reflecting a shifting array of emotions as he observed me.
“What?” I inquired, curious about his reaction.
