Page 41 of Condemned By Pain
With how I am right now, Bruno isn’t to blame. It’s entirely this woman’s fault.
I walk out. Bruno follows. In the kitchen, I grab the first aid kit and carry it back to his room, him at my heels the whole way.
I lower myself to the floor beside her. Take her hand. Remove the old bandage. Clean her palm. Apply ointment. Wrap it fresh.
I don’t let go when I’m done. I hold her hand between both of mine, my eyes tracing the calm lines ofher sleeping face.
Chapter 12
Elowen
Bruno bats my book away, fixing me with a sulking look.I chuckle and set the book aside, giving my complete attention to this big puppy.
“What is it?” I coo, holding his face. “My baby Bruno wants to play?”
I massage his jowls, and his face relaxes into a doggy grin. I kiss his head and climb out of bed. This new bed is so comfortable, since yesterday I’ve only left it whenabsolutely necessary.
I move to his toy basket, pull out a ball, and toss it in the air.
“Let’s go!”
I run with the ball, Bruno right behind me. I stop in the corridor and throw it. Bruno races after it, the ball hits the opposite wall and bounces back toward me, and he catches it mid-air with a high leap.
I clap for him, whistling. “Well done, boy!”
He drops the ball at my feet. I pick it up and toss it between my hands. His eyes track it intently.
Grinning, I hurl the ball in the opposite direction and take off running alongside him. The ball hits the wall and rebounds, and I snatch it before he can turn, holding it aloft. Bruno jumps up, climbing me to reach it.
I laugh. “No, baby. Not gonna happen.”
I throw the ball again. Bruno springs back to the floor and races after it. I follow—just as a door to one of the rooms opens.
Before I can stop myself, I collide with the wall of muscle that just walked out of that room.
He catches me by the waist before I can stumble back from the impact. I grab the collar of his T-shirt for balance.
Damn, this man looks so hot in a brown t-shirt.Yes, that’s what my brain registers instead of thinking about how awkwardly I’m suspended, bent backward over his arm.
I push myself up. My breasts press against his chest, and I feel the contact deep in my body—the contrast of my softness against his rock-hard muscles.
I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of cedarwood and that potent, masculine musk. If he were any other man, I would have definitely complimented him for how good he smells.
I slowly move away, finding my balance.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, looking into his deep eyes.
He looks different. His hair is carelessly tousled, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. He’s wearing a round-neck, full-sleeve brown T-shirt with black workout trousers.
I glance past him, it’s the gym.
My eyes roam over his torso again, taking in the definition of muscles his shirt usually hides. And he’s wearing gloves—even in the gym.Does he never take them off?
Bruno nudges my leg, drawing my attention away from the hot man and to him. I bend down, take the ball from his mouth, and pat his head.
I straighten up and look at my captor.
“You don’t play with him?”
