He looked up at me with gritted teeth. “It’s okay,” he said, but clearly it wasn’t.
He got up, carefully, cupping his dick… and that’s when I saw the blood.
Blood!
“Are you okay?” I repeated dumbly. I had no idea what else to say. I was scared to touch him again and accidentally kill him or something. He wasbleeding, and I was in shock.
“Just, uh, gimme a minute…” he said, his voice rough, as he staggered into the bathroom and shut the door.
Oh. My. God.
What just happened?
Did I just do that…?
I raked my hands through my hair.
How?Why?
But then it came to me, suddenly. It wasn’t totally my fault. It was the fucked-up design flaw in men’s jeans.
That’s right. I was blaming the jeans.
I went to the bathroom door and knocked softly. “Hey, Ashley…? Please tell me it’s not that bad.”
“It’s not that bad,” came his pained response.
Fuck me.
“I can’t believe that happened…”
“It’s okay,” he croaked.
“Actually… I kind of can’t believe that’s never happenedbefore. Zippers on men’s jeans should be outlawed, am I right?” I tried to laugh, but it came out as this desperate, strangled sound. “Like what sadist decided to put metal teeth right next to a penis?”
“It’s okay, Danica.”
I stepped back from the door, my heart still pounding from the rush of arousal—and then, the shock of hurting him.
My shirt was on the floor. My bra was still on, because I’d maimed him before he’d managed to get it off. So I just stood in the middle of his bedroom in my bra and sexy leggings, not knowing what to do.
Get dressed? Get him ice or something? Get him a drink?
I went out to his kitchen, to his liquor cabinet, and got down a bottle of bourbon. I took it back to the bedroom, where he was still closed in the bathroom, and tried to settle the fuck down.
Hard to do becauseI made his dick bleed.
I heard water running. I wondered if he had Band-Aids or ointment or anything in there, but I got the feeling asking would just make it worse. So I paced a bit and then went over to the bed and sat down to wait for him.
When he emerged a few minutes later, his jeans were still on, but unzipped. His hands were still cupping his dick. “Uh, just a sec,” he said, and disappeared into the closet.
When he came back out, his jeans were off. He was naked except for a pair of black boxer briefs. His dick was all tucked away inside them, so I really couldn’t assess the damage.
Which meant he probably didn’t want me to.
He definitely wasn’t hard anymore, though.
“Did the bleeding stop?” I asked guiltily, trying not to check him out. But come on… he was so totally gorgeous.
