“Let me.” I take the towel off her.
“Could you wipe my leg? I don’t think I can bend down far enough.” I dip the towel into the water and start wiping, barely touching her. I hold her around her calf and rub circles over the front of her leg as I wipe from her hip to her knee. The wound is oozing, but a lot of the blood is gone now. She grits her teeth but sits so still, watching me intently. I wipe over her hot skin, it’s so fucking soft, and the contact I have with her leg makes me feel heady and drunk. I take a deep breath before standing.
“I think you’re done.”
I reach down and pull her up, but she stumbles and crashes against me. I wrap my arms around her and grip her to me tightly. She rests her head on my chest, placing her hands on either side to stabilise her. “Are you okay?” She nods, and I take a deep breath, breathing in the smell of her hair before she pulls backand pushes away from me. She grabs for the door and starts to head out towards the living room.
“Where you going?”
“I need to get something to put on that isn’t going to… pinch.”
I steer her to the bed. “Sit. I’ll go, okay?”
She huffs, but she walks to the bed. She nods and sits back on it. I get her a baggy t-shirt, and I realise she has a lot of men’s clothes here. An ex, a boyfriend, maybe?
As I walk back in, I hand it to her, and she tugs it on over her head, pulling her bra off and tossing it towards the door. As she tugs the t-shirt down, she pulls her pants down and tosses them, too. Dropping back onto the bed, she huffs a few times, trying to take in a deep breath and closes her eyes. My mouth is suddenly dry as I rake my gaze up her long, shapely legs to the hem of her t-shirt, which barely covers her. I watch her flat stomach and the mound of her breasts as they heave with every breath she takes. After a few seconds, they even out, and she’s asleep. I scrub a hand down my face and turn and head into the kitchen. My mind is all over the place, and I can’t stop myself from wondering why I’m still here. Why I didn’t run? The raging hard-on I’m sporting might just be ninety per cent of the reason and also the reason why I can’t think of anything else since seeing her nearly naked.
I shake my head. I know it’s been a long time since I got laid. I know that’s probably the main reason, right? I mean, why else would I be lusting after my stalker, who is not only an assassin but is also hot as fuck?
I walk into the kitchen, splashing water on my face in the hopes of calming my wandering thoughts and my wayward dick.
I can’t keep thinking like this, even though when her body crashed into me, and I held her tight against me, it felt like everything shifted into place, and I was home. I tamper down those thoughts because if she is actually an assassin, then do I really want to fall in love with a psychotic killer? But I don’t have to fall in love with her. We could just fuck for a bit. I know it’s a lie I’m telling myself to get me through this fucked-up Stockholm syndrome I seem to have going on, because I’m certainly not thinking straight.
I decide to make some food and go with soup, because I don’t know how much she’s going to be able to manage. She brought loads of bread, too, but I did freeze some so it would last. I don’t want her going out again, and we need to lie low if we are actually a target. When she’s better, I think we need to sit down and have a talk because all I know is she’s an assassin, and I’m a target, which doesn’t help me process how dangerous this could actually be.
She’s out for a few more hours, and I decide to wake her up so she can eat and have some more tablets. She’s still where I left her, so I pop the tray down on the dresser and tiptoe to the side of her. I reach down and slide my finger around her forehead and down her cheek when her arm flings out so fast and grabs me by the wrist, crushing it in a vice-like grip. I squeal out as Itry to yank my hand away, and her eyes fly open, and she sags, dropping my hand.
“Shit, don’t sneak up on an assassin.”
“I wasn’t.” I pant as I grip my hand to my chest. Fuck that hurt.
“Sorry, are you okay? I’m just a little on edge.”
“Yeah, I’m okay. I made you some food.”
“You did?”
I nod, return to the dresser, grab the tray, and step back towards her. I place it down on the bed in front of her and step back, “You not eating?”
“I’ve already eaten,” I smile. I sit back in the chair and open the book. She looks over and smiles.
“I got the iPod for you too. I thought you could put some jazz on it.”
“You like jazz?”
“God, no!” She pulls a face. And I laugh as I smile and go back to reading the book while she eats. Once she’s finished, I take the tray and take it to the kitchen, getting us both a drink.
I walk in and hand it to her. “I think we need to talk.”
“Oh God, you’re breaking up with me.”
“What, no!” I spit out before I realise what she said and what I replied. Twat.
She gives me a small smile. And I grin at her. She really is fucking stunning. I need to decide what’s most important to me and what I really need the answers to. She’s more likely to be honest initially and trail off as she goes on, so I'll start with the stuff I really want to know. I sit down next to her, and she turns slightly to face me.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I blurt out, then school my face. What the fuck was that?
“No.”
