Page 74 of The Lost Guard's Healer

Galene

Rourk changes the bandages on my abdomen with a small smile on his face.

“That’s creepy,” I say to him.

He raises an eyebrow at me, but doesn’t take his eyes off my torso as he spreads a salve over the wound. “What is?”

“That weird grin you’ve got going on,” I say. “Like you’re getting some sick sort of pleasure out of this.”

Rourk laughs and shakes his head at me as he gently arches my back for me so he can wrap a fresh bandage around me. His hands are gentle—not the sort of thing you’d expect from a soldier of any position, though the callouses that scrape carefully against my soft skin are no surprise at all. It sends a wave of heat down my spine and my core tightens as I remember the other places those fingers have been. He says, “Not pleasure. I’m just recalling a time when it was me getting salve rubbed in my injuries.”

I can’t help my smile. “Yes, well, I’m a far better patient than you were.”

Rourk is grinning now. “You’re just saying that because you couldn’t stand the sight of me then.”

“You say that as if I can stand the sight of you now,” I tease.

He grins and gently squeezes my sides. “You haven’t stopped staring at me since I lifted your shirt to change your bandage. I’d say you like more than just the sight of me, Galene.”

“You’re the one who saved my life,” I retort, though my voice isn’t as strong as I’d like it to be. “I’d say that means you like me far more than I like you.”

“Oh, I wholeheartedly agree,” Rourk replies. “But that wasn’t the argument.” He winks and stands up, backing away. “You should rest.”

I’m protesting before I can stop myself. “Rourk.”

He pauses. “Yeah?”

I shake my head. “I don’t need rest. And—” I stop the words before they leave my mouth.

But his mouth quirks up, as if he has a good enough idea of what I was about to say. “And what?”

“Nothing.”

“Say it,” he urges. “Or I’m walking out that door.”

I lift my chin, even as I fight the blood that rises to my cheeks. “And I don’t want you to leave.”

He’s smiling again as he strides toward me. Sits down on the edge of the bed. “What do you want, Galene?”

The words are heavy in my throat, but they tumble from my lips like stones. With those depthless eyes boring into mine and the potent scent of him washing over me, I can’t bring myself to lie, or even tease with him a moment longer. “You.”

Those eyes flicker with surprise, as if he didn’t expect such a truthful, simple answer. “Galene.”

“You’ve been saying my name a lot,” I murmur as I sit up, slowly sliding into his lap. “I can’t help but wonder if that means you want me, too.”

His words come out rough like gravel. Desire lights my blood. “Of course I want you. I always want you.” His hands bracket my waist as he stares up into my eyes. “But you’re wounded. I can’t—we can’t.”

I nod slowly. “Yes, we can. I know my limits, Rourk, and I know you’ll be gentle with me.”

I rake my hands through his hair as he buries his face in my neck and groans. I can feel his hardness growing beneath me. “We shouldn’t.”

“Of course we should.”

“It’s going to make things… far more complicated between us.”

“Impossible,” I murmur, tugging at the handful of strands between my fingers. I start to rock my hips slowly, creating just enough friction.

He sucks in a breath. “You’re a terrible influence.”

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