Page 20 of The Plunge

I take a deep breath, trying my best to pull myself together. It's all the harder because I can feel his eyes on me, observing, pushing.

I ignore him, taking another breath before I slowly glide off the mattress. I know I can stand and walk on my own because I've done it plenty of times during the past couple of days. But I always needed time to get used to it, balancing my dizzy self with only one arm while the other is still firmly attached to my chest.

And not once have I tried to undress in this state, let alone dress in an entirely new outfit.

"Of, for God's sake," he hisses, closing in on me with two wide steps. "We don't have time for your nonsense, Libby. Let me help you."

I want to protest and push him away, but I know he's right. Even if time wasn't an issue, this would be an ordeal if I had to do it on my own. An ordeal that he can save me from if I let him.

I bite my lower lip, lowering my gaze in shame but not fighting him off when he reaches for the hem of the gown and pulls it up over my head in one swift motion, a little too carelessly considering the state I'm in.

I curve my back instantly, slouching my shoulder as I try to protect my naked and wounded body from his eyes.

"Stop that," he snaps at me, throwing the gown aside, then he surprises me by saying, "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

I don't need a mirror to know that my cheeks blush at his words, and I'm sure he can see it when I look up, and our eyes meet.

A dark smirk graces his face. "What? Don't trust my words? Believe me, if the circumstances were any different, I'd fuck you right here and now."

What? Did he really just say that?

My eyes widen in surprise while the color of my face must have darkened by about a hundred shades just now. I stiffen when he comes closer, gently placing his hand on my healthy shoulder while the other hovers above my wounded side.

"Can you move it?" he asks.

I shake my head. "The doctor said I shouldn't."

He sighs but doesn't say anything as he grabs a hoodie from the pile of clothes. I notice how his eyes rest on my chest for a moment, not even trying to hide the desire that flares in his gaze. What a sick bastard he is to be thinking of such things in this situation.

And what a twisted heart I have to jump at the notion of it.

If the circumstances were any different...

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