Page 69 of Betrothed
The look she shot me could corkscrew a man into the ground. “You did.”
I didn’t argue with her, the ache in my shoulder more prominent than it had been before. While pain was something I was used to experiencing, the dull throb was as annoying as my cloying questions had been to her.
She took me by the hand of my good arm, pulling me up the stairs as she would a tantrum-throwing child. Her grip was firm, determination written all over her face. Once inside the master bath, she studied my face the entire time she was pulling out the supplies she’d brought with her.
“Can you take your shirt off or do you need my help?”
I smirked at her question, but my amusement turned into a grimace as soon as I lifted my shoulder.
“Just stop,” she directed. “Jesus. I knew I should have taken you to an examination room.”
“As you might have noticed, there was no time.”
Her jaw clenched after issuing a few curse words that would rival a sailor. As angry as she seemed, she was completely gentle with me in helping me remove my shirt. Once she started to peel away the bandage, she was all business.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. It looks like it’s becoming infected. I didn’t clean it well enough because you had too much blood on you. You still do.” Using a single finger, she pushed me against the counter. “Sit. You’re too tall.”
“I haven’t had a single lady complain before.”
“That’s because you are manically manipulative.” She yanked a washcloth from the cabinet, turning on the water with a quick snap of her wrist.
“Is that what you think?”
“That’s what I know to be true. Now sit still.”
She was so close that I could still gather a slight hint of whatever perfume she’d used hours before. The fragrance was sweet, slightly floral with a mere hint of spices. A perfect combination for a woman with two distinct sides. When she moved between my legs, I involuntarily dropped my head, taking a deep whiff of the crook of her neck.
Stiffening, she pulled back, the evil eye returning.
“Okay. I’m sorry,” I told her.
“No, you’re not. You’re like some small child with a toy in his hand.”
“Does that mean I’m allowed to play?”
“No! Sit still. You’re driving me crazy.”
While I did as she asked, that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy studying the long line of her neck, appreciating her near perfect physique.
“Stop staring at me.” Every huff was an admittance of desire. Every twitch of her lips and I hungered to use her mouth for something utterly indecent.
When she realized both where my eyes had landed and that her full breasts were mere inches from my mouth, she growled.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”
“No, you will not.” She pulled away, tossing the washcloth. “The blood is dried and given the redness around the stitches, I need you completely clean.”
“What do you want me to do?”
I’d yet to see her nibbling on her bottom lip, but when she did, my dick pressed against the zipper of my jeans. “Take a shower.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You need to wash off all the blood. Every inch, but you’ll need to remain very careful around the sutures. I didn’t bring anything to redo them, which would mean taking you to a hospital, which you won’t allow me to do.”
“No, I will not.”
She planted her hands on her hips before moving toward the shower, opening the door and turning on the water. “Come on. Let’s get busy.”
