“Are you okay in there?” Harrison’s deep voice cut through the door, and every muscle tensed, preparing for a fight.
How embarrassing. He thinks I’m using the bathroom this long.
“Uh, yeah,” I answered. “I’m trying to see how bad my fall was. This bruise is pretty bad.”
“Do you need me to look at it?”
I gulped. It was near my butt, and I had already suffered enough humiliation for twenty-four hours. Heck, more like my entire life.
I shook my head but then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Uh, no?”
“Not making a pass, Becca. If it’s hit hard enough, you could get nerve damage. You might need to ice it or at least put muscle rub on it. You were limping. Let me take a look, please.”
The sincerity in his voice confused me, and my stomach did a weird swoopy thing that I didnotlike. I tried shifting my weight to get a better look but it was no use with most of my winter gear still on. The bruise sat in a tricky position so that I couldn’t see it, no matter which way I bent.
With a disgruntled sigh, I pulled up my sweatpants, mentally prepared myself for Harrison, and opened the door. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, with a casual air about him. The expression on his face was intense, like he always was, but his brows were drawn together in concern. It was dangerous to enjoy being the momentary recipient of his care, so I tried not to. Every time he did something nice, I remembered all the ways he’d made me feel silly. It was the safest way.
“So…” I blew out a frustrated breath. “I can’t see the bruise no matter how I bend.”
His lips quirked up a bit on the side, and he motioned with his chin to the living room. “The light is best in there by the window. I’m sure it’s fine but I’ll feel better knowing it isn’t serious, Becca.”
Did he have to say my name like that? All warm and nice and sexy? I swallowed hard and did my walk of shame to the couch as my entire body heated with humiliation. Did I just lay down, drop my pants, and saytake a look? I sweated just thinking about it.
“Don’t be so nervous. I’ll be gentle and quick, okay?” His footsteps faded, and his voice came from somewhere else in the house. “Get on your stomach and adjust your waistband so I can see the bruised area. I’m getting some supplies.”
Adjust your waistband.That was the most professional and least sexy way any man has ever told me to take off my pants. I giggled and kept my face turned toward the couch.
His heavy footsteps creaked on the wooden floor with his return. “You might not like it, but you’ll probably have to put ice on it.”
“Ice?” I almost screeched and spun to face him. “Are you sure?”
“Just a guess, but yeah.” He winced and moved to sit on the edge of the couch, his thighs pressed against my side.
We were so close. Way too close. My breathing hitched at his warmth and size.
Oh my, when is the last time I had sex? Months? More?
Stop thinking about sex in Harrison’s house.
“Let’s see it.”
He’s about to see my butt. Be cool.
I wiggled my hips and pulled down my sweats enough for him to see my bruise. Goose bumps erupted on my skin—this time from his nearness more than the cold. Every part of my body tensed, waiting for his response.
Oh, such a weird butt you have.
No, he wouldn’t say anything like that. If he did, I’d take my chances in the blizzard. Instead, he said nothing. Not a word. He sucked in a breath and shifted his position on the couch, making me lean farther into him.
“This is a bitch of a bruise,” he said, after what felt like six hours of silence.
“It’s not pleasant,” I mumbled into the pillows, thankful he pulled me from my weird trance.
“I’m going to check to make sure nothing is raised, okay? That means I will touchjustthe bruised area.”
I groaned.
The pads of his calloused and warm fingers skimmed lightly over the area, leaving my skin prickled with heat and awareness. He didn’t press down enough to hurt but used enough pressure that wave after wave of shivers washed over me.
