“Shit,” I mumble and pull my hand from his head.
Jackson had grabbed his hair, hadn’t he? Before he’d gotten him to the ground. I can’t quite remember. It all feels like a blur; all I know is that Carmine’s eyes are shining with tears and his breath is heavier.
“Just… Hey man, it’s fine,” I insist. “I’m not gonna do what that bastard tried to do. I’d never do that shit.”
Carmine’s eyes widen. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asks. “I’m fine. I didn’t think… There’s nothing to think about.”
His throat bobs as he swallows, his adam’s apple more prominent than my own.
“That’s a damn lie and you know it.” I reach out slowly this time and brush the cotton pad with witch hazel on it against his jawline.
Carmine’s shoulders stiffen for a moment, but then relax…mostly.
I can tell as I start to wipe at the dried blood on his face that he’s somewhere else entirely. His gaze is across the small kitchen, locked not onto something but through something.
I know that look. I’ve felt that look in one way or another. I keep my mouth shut and just clean the blood off his face and neck. I watch as his skin moves under the cotton pad and the liquid soaks up the blood until the fabric is a pink tinge and I have to grab another.
Droplets of the witch hazel run down his neck and below the collar of his shirt. Carmine shivers gently, and I find myself struggling not to want to make him do it again. I brush my fingers along his neckline this time, not the cotton.
I feel his pulse. Quick, but steady.
The scent of his skin and hair is marred by blood, but it doesn’t make it worse. No, it only makes it better for me. I ache to lean in and press my nose against him. Inhale him. Until his scent occupies every part of me, and I overtake him.
“Why are you doing this, really, Soren?” Carmine asks me all of the sudden. Breaking the silence between us. I’m uncertain how long it’s been.
I meet his eyes, and see my own heated reflection in his. I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket but I ignore it. Whoever it is can wait.
“No one can know Jackson died by my hands for you,” I tell him. “Your cleaners will do the job of making sure no one knows he was ever there. I’m doing the same for you.”
I step just a little bit closer. “Unless you want everyone to know what happened in that office?”
Carmine’s eyes narrow. “Nothing happened.”
“Exactly.”
I begin to clean him off again, but I hesitate to finish, not wanting the moment to end. When I set the final pad down, having gotten most of the blood off his skin, I bring my fingers up and brush them along his jaw line while he looks me right in the eyes.
“What are you doing?” he asks, tilting his face away from my hand.
“Just checkin’, don’t get your panties in a bunch.”
His breath catches for a second as my fingers slide up toward his ear and down his neck.
Carmine’s hand swings up and grabs my wrist. “I have a feeling you’re enjoying this a bit too much,” he accuses me.
I tug my hand away from his grasp and stare down at him.
“Is that a problem?” I ask.
He stares back at me. I wait for an answer that never comes. Instead, he steps back from me, takes his suit jacket off and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
“I assume you have clothing for me to change into? If you don’t want anyone to see the blood.” Carmine raises a brow.
My mouth goes dry as I watch him unbutton his shirt the rest of the way and his mostly smooth chest is revealed. Seeing it in person is different than on a camera… That much I know.
I blink, trying to get my thought together. “Ah, yeah. There’s a few different shirts in the bedroom.” I motion out of the kitchen.
I can’t go with him, if I do, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to stop myself from coming onto him.
