Page 10 of Hotwife

Giving an awkward nod, I scooted past him before halting in mid-step.

“Dorothy, be careful. I’m sure you’re unaware, but there are brand new bull sharks in containment just up ahead. I wouldn’t want you wandering over to sneak a peek and injuring your sweet little self.” His words dripped like greasy condescension. I had to physically grit my teeth before turning with a pasted-on smile.

“Wow, how scary. Thanks for telling me.”

“One last thing. I’m looking for a photographer we hired to shoot some of the animals behind the scenes. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

Yep, I almost killed him, in fact.

“Nope, sorry. But I’ll let you know if I see him.”

Seemingly pleased with fulfilling his meaningless aim, he gave me a curt nod before continuing on his way.

Reentering the storage room with an exhale, Desmond shot me a quizzical stare.

“Ran into Ted. He’s looking for you. But I threw him off your scent. We’re safe for a while.”

“Yeah well, it was the least you could do, being that I risked life and remaining limbs to save your pretty ass.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I swallowed. “Here,” I tossed him his towels, and he leaned back, gripping his prosthetic. Suddenly, self-consciousness overtook me and I spun around, pretending to look in a random box of beluga whale stuffed animals. I’d never met anyone like Desmond and didn’t know the etiquette for watching them with their prosthetic. It felt a little like seeing someone naked, and not in the sexy way, more in the intrusive and awkward way. Of course I wondered what happened. Was he born this way, or did he lose his leg due to injury? Surely it would be rude to ask.

“It doesn’t bother me if you watch,” he rumbled softly. “I wasn’t exactly prepared to be submerged in shark shit or I would have worn my waterproof.”

Turning, I put an unsure hand to squeeze the back of my neck. “Sorry about that. You’re right, it was reckless of me to be up there. I don’t know what came over me—”

“Sure you do,” he interrupted, not looking up from his meticulous assessing and cleaning.

Maybe it should have seemed strange to me to see a man pull off his metal-leg and place it in his lap, nothing but dense thigh left behind, but it wasn’t odd in the least. It was just a part of who he was. And whoever that may be, I still knew virtually nothing about.

I crossed my arms. “You seem to think you know a whole lot about me for someone I’ve only sort-of met once.”

A chuckle escaped his throat as he pieced his leg back in place and pulled on his sweatpants. “Are sharks your favorite sea creatures?”

I blinked at his change of subject. “No… I think orca whales are my favorites. Why?”

I gulped as he stood at full, magnificent height and strode over to me, shirtless, dark hair messy, and jaw sharp as hell. When he was close enough that I had to strain my neck to look up at him, he smirked slightly. “I know you a lot better than you think I do, Dorthea.”

“Prove it,” I challenged. My heart pounded so loudly in my chest I was afraid he’d hear it in the cool, silent room. He lowered his lips, and I resisted a magnetic desire to wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. My legs were dying to wrap around him too, if I’m being honest.

Was he going to bite me again? God, I was dying for another nip of his teeth… But only the warm breath of a whisper teased the outside of my earlobe. “You want to ask me what happened to my leg.”

“Yes,” I mumbled, my filter faltering.

He leaned back abruptly, looking down with his sharp emerald gaze. “Surfing. Shark attack.”

A gasp escaped my throat, and my chest gripped. He was hurt in a shark attack and I made him jump into a tank. I’d never forgive myself. “Oh my god, Desmond. I’m so sorry-”

“I’m joking,” he admitted with an amused turn of his lips. “But wouldn’t that be some shit?”

I shoved his chest, trying to push him away from me, but it was like beating against a concrete wall. “You’re the actual devil,” I exclaimed, sliding out from his reach.

“I’ve been called worse, darling. Now, let’s get out of here.”

“Let’s? As in both of us? Yeah, I don’t think so. Maybe you should go surfing or something,” I quipped, trying to sound meaner than I felt.

“No waves in the PNW, unfortunately. And I’m afraid you have no choice,” he purred, pulling on his aquarium hoodie that matched my own. I looked like an idiot in this get-up. He looked like a model for the aquarium catalog.

“Excuse me?” I crossed my arms, feigning offense, though something hot burned in my chest at his order.

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