Her brown eyes radiate warmth and intelligence, hidden behind blue-framed glasses. The frame matches the color of her shirt. I wonder if she did that on purpose.
Alek comes up behind her and wraps his giant arm around her waist, and she giggles.
“Tia is starting at Bastien this semester, in three weeks.”
I wish.
“I can’t wait to hear about your interests and what you want to study,” Abi says.
But before she can pull me into a conversation, Victor steps in.
“We’re going to the bathroom to clean the wound,” Victor’s husky voice booms. My body stills for a moment, wondering if he’ll mention more about it.
“Good idea. And make sure you use alcohol. Who knows where that asshole’s hands have been.”
My stomach drops at Alek’s descriptive reminder, and my hand flies to my neck. Abi’s eyes grow extra-large, and Victor steps around me and glares at my hand and neck.
What’s your problem?I want to ask him.
Instead,I seal my lips shut and shrug nonchalantly.
Chapter Four
We leave Abi and Alek whispering. She probably wants to be discreet and get the full story from him. I don’t mind escaping Alek’s questions, so I follow Victor up the stairwell, thankful he hasn’t spoken about the shoulder stitches.
My gaze lands on Victor’s back muscles. They are so defined that if he weren’t moving, his back would look like a flawless sculpture of David. Then my eyes settle on Victor’s butt, which looks incredible in his denim jeans.Oh, crap.I just checked him out.
The bathroom is small but enough. A bit claustrophobic for me and the enormous man to be in together. Fluffy towels hang on a rack and extra toilet paper rolls are lying on a small shelf opposite a large mirror above the faucet. I wonder if Abi has anything to do with how clean this place is. The distinct aroma of shaving cream hits my nose, or maybe it’s a body wash, but it’s a male scent—definitely not flowery like the ones I use and definitely not citrus like the ones Alek uses. What is this scent called? I make a mental note for the next time I go to the grocery store, to sniff all of the men’s body wash bottles to find out.
For research purposes, of course.
I lean my rear against the white sink and wait for instructions. What does he want to do to me? My brother let me go off with him, so he clearly trusts him to some extent.
Victor opens the medicine cabinet and takes out a first aid kit. Then he regards me while clutching the kit so hard that his knuckles are turning white.
“What?” I finally snap under mixed emotions.
“I can’t decide if you need to take off your shirt or not.”
“What?!” I say like a total idiot, unable to come up with more words.
He shakes his head, grinning. Is he flirting with me?
I pull a hair band from my pocket and maneuver my hair into a thick, messy bun. The neck scratch is on full display now. His eyes zero in on it and he presses his lips into a tight line. Victor stands in an almost military position right in front of me—his legs around mine, his body inches away. He dips his head to the side of my neck and runs his fingers over it.
The first touch is a jolt to my skin, scorching me from my neck down to my core, and it has nothing to do with the pain from the wound.That is unusual. It’s never happened before.
His chest rises and lowers quickly. His hands work fast tearing packages. I immediately detect the alcohol and as soon as he swipes the swab on my neck, my hands squeeze the sink tighter. It stings like hell.
“So how come you know how to care for wounds?” I huff.
Who cares? I shouldn’t be asking him anything personal. My mouth must have its own control command, because it doesn’t listen to me.
Fine. Victor is hot. So what? So is Dwayne Johnson, and I’m not stalking him on social media and I totally don’t click on all of his Instagram pictures. And I never zoom in on his pec muscles. Cross my heart.
His calloused hand stills for a moment on my neck and then continues working its magic.
“Alek hasn’t told you anything about me?”
