Page 57 of Vicious Sentiments

“Good girl. In… out. In… out.”

After a moment, I slump, enjoying the sweet feel of air in my lungs. I don’t get a second to relax before Cape lets go of my chin and scoops me up, hauling me over his shoulder.

I want to wriggle, ask him what he’s doing, but I’m spent. He probably just wants to dump me back in my room and go about his workout. Which is fine with me. I’m done and embarrassed with myself for bloodying his chest.

He carries me up the stairs and I’m expecting another flight shortly, but then he tosses me onto the couch. I let out a huff.

“Stay there,” he barks and stalks off.

For what? Let me go wallow in my misery alone. I shift to cradle my hands above me so I don’t get blood on the couch that probably costs a fortune and glance around. I’m glad Margo isn’t here to witness my stupidity, or Marney to ask me what happened. What would I say? I cut my knuckles on Cape’s chiseled chest in a fit of insanity?

God, I’ve never lost it like that.

Cape reappears with a bundle of bandages and bottles in his arms and he kneels before me. I shrink back, eyeing him suspiciously. Why is he being nice?

“Oh, now you’re skittish?” He lays the stuff out beside me and motions for my hands.

I cringe and give them to him.

He twists my right hand this way and that, admiring the mess. “You really fucked yourself up.”

He grabs a cloth and pours something on it before wiping at my knuckles. His big hands are gentler than I expect, but whatever’s on the cloth burns worse than my embarrassment, and I can’t help but whimper.

“Don’t be a baby,” he says but blows on the cuts.

I narrow my eyes at him.

“If you knew how to hit, they wouldn’t be this bad. ButAfor effort, I guess.” He shrugs.

A for effort? I lost it on him. He should give me an F for failing to keep it together.

He moves onto my other hand, and I bite back a hiss when I realize he’s actually kneeling between my legs. He needs a wide berth and I’m spread to him, exposed and vulnerable. He still has the blood on his chest and something about it is carnal.

He blows again and my body reacts, tensing and pushing me closer. I don’t care if it proves how fucked up I am, I want to wrap my legs around him.

He moves on to a tube of ointment, squeezing some onto his fingertip. He starts dabbing at my raw skin, his face in concentration with a few locks of his dark hair falling into his eyes. He’s tender with his touch and methodical as he makes sure every knuckle gets an even amount.

Confused and shamefully aroused by his care, I scoot a little closer. I’m intrigued by his soft side. I guess it had to be there, somewhere. I mean, hewasengaged. A woman wouldn’t have committed herself to him otherwise, right?

“Julian’s going to kill me,” he says, reaching for the gauze.

“It’s not your fault though.” I frown. I don’t want him in trouble when he was just trying to help me.

“Pretty sure it was my rock hard body you split your knuckles on.” He chuckles, and I roll my eyes. He may be being nice, but he’s still cocky. It doesn’t stop me from shifting closer though. My ass is barely on the cushion at this point.

He cups my hand, unwinding the gauze around my palm and I lean into him.

“Pretty sure it was my fault,” I say, a little breathy.

“It’s fine. I can handle my brother.” He turns to grab another roll and freezes. I’m a little close to his face. “Well, hello. Interested in the art of bandaging?” A wry and cocky smile on his lips. “If you take off your clothes I can show you a full body wrap.”

I feel my skin flush and lean away. Without missing a beat, he picks up the gauze and starts on my other hand. I take the opportunity to try and get a hold of myself.

When he finishes, he dusts his hands off and then shoves them under my ass. Before I can protest, he lifts me up and my legsinstinctively wrap around his waist. I’m so caught off guard that I don’t say anything, just accept it and wrap my arms around his neck, relishing the care.

He carries me all the way up the stairs as I suck in his scent, not caring if the blood on his chest gets on my shirt. It is my blood, after all. A sick bit of satisfaction comes over me, as if I’ve marked him. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.

Cape pauses in the hallway, his body going rigid beneath mine, which is odd, because I assumed he was taking me to my room. I pop my head up and crane around.

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