“Come sit. Let me take a look,” I say.
“I’m fine.” She doesn’t move a muscle.
I count to three I my head. “Good thing I wasn’t asking. Sit.”
She narrows her eyes. “You’re so fucking bossy.”
“You have no idea,” I mumble, opening the kit.
With a sigh, she finally sits up and moves to the edge of the bed. I kneel in front of her, grab her ankle, and ease her foot into my lap. Carefully, I roll it to the side so I can see the damage. Her skin is hot, scraped, and starting to swell. Not good.
I gently clean the wounds, apply ointment, and start bandaging the worst of them. She hisses but doesn’t pull away.
“Thisis why I’m bossy. You don’t take care of yourself. You’d walk on this till it turned septic, then wonder why we’re amputating.”
Her mouth drops open. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” I agree, chuckling, finishing the wrap.
Reaching for her other foot, I repeat the process. We sit in comfortable silence, her just watching me work.
“Stay off your feet, at least for tonight. Pretty sure the adhesive on these bandages expired before you were born.”
Instead of releasing her, I keep my hand on her ankle, gently stroking it with my thumb. I see goosebumps rise on her long, tan legs, and my eyes follow them up to the hem of her towel. That fucking tiny towel.
“Ugh!” she snaps, yanking her leg back. “You’re so confusing!”
“How so?”
“Because you’re gay! But you look at me like... that.” She points an accusing finger.
I meet her eyes, calm and steady. I’m tired of lying. It’s time to fess up. “I’m not gay.”
“What? Yes you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“But you said… at your job interview…”
“I said what I had to, to get the job. From the moment I walked into that room and saw Marcus, I knew he was apossessive prick. Then, you had to start asking inappropriate questions, and the only way I could think to salvage things was if Marcus thought I wouldn’t be a threat.”
She blinks, processing that information, then her face pales.
“Oh my God! You let me prance around in my underwear.”
I shrug. “I highly enjoyed that. I’m not sorry.”
She groans into her hands, and I can’t help the grin that tugs at my mouth.
“Make no mistake, Aro,” I say, voice low. “I love women. I love feeling their soft bodies in my hands, tasting them… fucking them.” Her chest heaves with every declaration I make, and she bites down on her delicious bottom lip.
“You can’t talk to me like that,” she whispers. “I’m with Marcus.”
“You don’t have to be,” I say, stroking her knee with my thumb. “I can get you out. Keep you safe. All you have to do is say the word.”
She looks at me, and for a second, something cracks. Hope leaks in, but then she shuts down just as fast.
Her voice is flat. “I can’t leave. And I don’t want to.”
