“You’re bleeding,” he mumbles, crouching down to study the back of my leg. “What happened?”
“Oh, nothing.” My face heats as I reach around to cover the evidence.
“Did you,” he pauses to furrow his brow thoughtfully, “cut yourself shaving?”
I gulp. “I don’t know. Maybe. I can’t remember.”
His eyes run over my calf, and he shoots me a playful grin. “You shaved your legs for me, didn’t you?”
“No,” I lie and kick him away. “I shave my legs every night.” Another lie.
He laughs as he rises to his feet. “Of course you do. Where are your Band-Aids?”
“I don’t have any,” I retort, frowning. He crosses his arms and glares at me, calling my bluff. “Fine. They’re in the master bathroom.”
He steps forward and scoops me up into his arms without warning, making me squeal.
“This isn’t a medical emergency, you know, which means it’s a blatant violation of the no-touchy rule,” I grumble as I drape my arms around his neck, my gaze already locked onto his mouth.
“I may have agreed to keep my lips to myself, but I also took an oath to do no harm. And I don’t plan on breaking either of my promises, even if you are the most distractingly beautiful woman I’ve ever been tasked with healing,” he replies confidently.
I scoff. “I can’t believe I actually fell for this corny shit before,” I protest instead of begging him to carry me to bed and feed me more of his cheesy lines all night.
After he takes off his shirt, of course.
“You can leave those glasses on, though,” I accidentally say aloud.
Rowan lets out a quiet laugh as he turns and glides through my bedroom, stopping to set me down gently on the bathroom counter. “Medicine cabinet?” he asks, and I nod.
I lick my lips and watch his chest muscles flexing beneath his T-shirt as he reaches over me to retrieve a bandage. Then he wets a washcloth and props my leg on his shoulder to tenderly dab at the dried blood. It’s all I can do not to whimper as he works with my calf resting against his neck.
If this is how he tends to all his patients, sign me up for the next pap smear.
I’m practically trembling with need by the time he presses the Band-Aid onto my skin, his eyes zeroing in on mine just to make sure I understand that he knows what he’s doing to me. I swallow hard and flutter my eyelashes while I struggle to hide the way I’m clenching my thighs together and straining to keep my toes from curling.
“Be honest, Claire Bear. You like it corny, don’t you?” hemumbles as he straightens, the light scruff on his jaw scraping the inside of my ankle, and I gasp.
I furrow my brow as I stare up at him, trying to gauge how he’d react if I were to crook my leg around his neck and pull him down to me now. His control falters for a second, and I watch his eyes grow darker as he must be considering the same things I am.
“Rowan,” I begin, barely able to get the warning out. But he clears his throat and lowers my leg after one more brush of his hands over my calf.
“Now, that should make it all better,” he mutters, turning his eyes away and adjusting his glasses.
“Thank you,” I breathe, white knuckling the counter to keep myself from reaching out for him.
“I’ll get the dogs. Good night, Claire. Sleep well.”
I accidentally let out an audible whimper. “Yeah, like that’s happening now.”
“Sorry. Maybe I am dangerous, just a little,” he reminds me, stifling a smile as he saunters out.
He has no idea.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
rowan
The next morning,I wake up earlier than usual with a surprising amount of energy, so I sneak into the laundry room to borrow a hoodie and put the coffee brewing before going out for a run. Retracing the route Claire and I took last night, I jog along the road to my sister’s place. The crime scene we left behind looks even worse in the light of day.
