Ethan King was a sculpture. His body was a work of art and I was so close to touching it. Reaching out, I lay my fingers on his stomach, feeling the taut muscles there.
Jesus, I could buy a dozen vibrators and it wouldn’t replace this.
Rock. Hard. Ethan.
“This might hurt a bit.”My voice cracked.
“Pain doesn’t bother me.” His voice was deep and husky, and for some reason his comment about pain was hot as fuck to me right now.
I swallowed hard, trying to remember what the directions had said and trying not to think about what it would be like to kiss him.
I’ll bet he was a good kisser.I bet he looks stellar naked too.
After taking a cleansing breath, I disinfected the area, holding the device up to his skin. I pushed the button that would embed the tiny needle-like catheter, and it shot into him with a snapping sound. I flinched. He didn’t.
After clicking in the transmitter, I stepped back and surveyed my work.
“That’s it?” He looked down at the small device the size of a quarter.
I nodded, picking up my phone and opening the app that came with it.
“It’s syncing.”
His eyes landed on the smart phone in my hand. “Did you get that just now? For me?”
My heart hammered in my chest as I realized just how deeply into him I was.
I nodded, not meeting his eyes. “I told you, you scared me. This way I can make sure you’re safe.”
His blood sugar level then popped up on the screen.
107.
Stable.
I sighed in relief, feeling all of my tight muscles relax. “Okay. You’re good right now, but I should start dinner. Have you had your short acting insulin today? Where are the hospital’s discharge instructions? I forgot what they—”
Ethan stood, and took my hand into his, setting my phone down on the table and stopping me mid-sentence.
“Hailey, I’m so sorry I scared you.” His gaze was so sincere that it cut right into my broken soul.
He’d almost died. He’d been taken to the hospital in an ambulance, and his one regret was that he’d scaredme.
Ethan King was too pure for this shitty world. I didn’t deserve him; I’d break him no doubt.
He was staring at me, intensely, inches from my face, unmoving.
Kiss him.
Part of me wanted to pop up on my tiptoes and suck his bottom lip into my mouth.But my other half was scared. Scared of what it would mean for Ethan and I, scared of having a panic attack or being a horrible kisser, scared of everything. So much fear. Fear had me trapped.
He reached out slowly, giving me a chance to pull away if I wanted, and stroked my neck, causing my legs to nearly buckle.
Leaning in, he pressed his lips right up to my ear: “When’s the last time someone made love to you? Put your needs before theirs, didn’t rest until everyinchof you was pleasured.”
Holy Fuck.
Ethan had a brush with death and now he was going for it. Big time.
