But she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all day.
Her smooth caramel skin glows in the dismal lighting. Her shoulder-length waves are slightly disheveled, but I want to run my fingers through them. The rouge in her cheeks has me wanting to make her blush for a whole different reason.
“Oh, thank God, Levi,” she breathes out and rushes toward me. “Can you help him?”
Snapping out of my stupor, I finally notice that this isn’t some random woman.
It’s Blake Jennings.
She’s carrying something in her arms, wrapped in fabric. A paw sticks out from the bundle.
Peering down, I find the broad head and blocky jaw of a blue pit bull. His steel-gray coat is dulled beneath dirt and dried blood, interrupted only by a white blaze stretching across his chest. One ear folds forward while the other struggles to stay upright, giving him an almost lopsided look that would be endearing under different circumstances. Sad amber eyes meet mine, glazed with pain but still alert enough to follow every movement.
The emergency switch in my brain flips on.
“This way,” I direct as I spin on my heel and head for the exam room. Blake follows me inside, I point to the table, and quickly wash my hands at the sink. “Set him there.”
Slipping on a pair of gloves, I turn back to them. She’s kneeling on the tiled floor next to the dog, whispering as she pets his face.
Moving to the other side, I remove the cloth from the dog and see what I didn’t before.
Blood.
As I assess his injuries and gather supplies, I ask, “What happened?”
Blake watches me as I get to work. “I’m not sure. I found him like this on the side of the highway.”
I nod. “He was probably hit by a car and left for dead. Happens often enough.”
He’s losing too much blood.
“I need you to apply pressure to his front leg to stop the bleeding,” I instruct. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her jump into motion.
As I reach for his injured leg, he doesn’t growl or snap. He only lets out a quiet whine before looking toward Blake, as if asking her whether he should trust me.
I get lost in the process of patching the canine back together.
The more I examine him, the more convinced I become that he’s almost entirely pit bull. Broad chest. Thick neck. Powerful shoulders. If he were healthy, he’d probably tip the scales somewhere around sixty pounds of solid muscle.
I’m not sure how much time passes when I finally step back from the table. There isn’t much more I can do at the moment. Exhausted, I sigh. The bleeding has stopped, he’s sedated, and he’s hooked up to an IV.
“Is he going to be okay?” she whispers.
Nodding my head, I look over him again. “The next few days will be telling, but he’s a fighter.”
“So…Do Walk and Santi know—” I begin as I turn to her, but the words get trapped in my throat. I can’t help but allow my mouth to hang open as I stare at her. Her jeans are molded perfectly to her hips, but it’s the lack of clothing on top that has me stuttering.
Her breasts look ready to spill out of the thin, lacy fabric covering them. I watch as her nipples harden under my gaze. My eyes wander down her frame, and I feel my cock harden.
I want to devour this woman. I want to run my tongue over her silky bronze skin. Even just once, so I can live with the memory of her taste.
“Oh my God!” she shouts, snapping out of the spell she unknowingly put me under. Her arms cross, covering her chest, and her cheeks pinken. “Don’t look!”
“I didn’t see anything.”
A lie so bold that I’m sure if I didn’t already have a one-way ticket to hell, it would buy me one. There’s no way I’ll ever forget that image. I never want to.
Hiding my smile, I turn and give her my back. “Where did your shirt go?”
