Page 19 of The Biker's Red Christmas

He nods his head and gently lays my hand to my side before he turns and waltzes in the direction of my bathroom.

It takes him longer than I would expect to find the first aid kit in the bathroom, so I follow behind him just to make sure he's able to locate it. When I get there, I see the medicine cabinet open along with the doors to the stand I have in the corner of the bathroom, right along with the cabinet under the sink. The first aid kit is right there in plain sight, but he's yet to pick it up.

"What the hell are you looking for?" I question when I see what he's doing.

"I'm making sure no other man lives here." He shrugs like this is the most normal thing in the world.

I scoff and tilt my head to the side. "You could've just asked me."

"This was easier."

"What about in the bedroom? I could be hiding my sex slave in the closet." I play right along with him, but Lash doesn't hesitate to take the bait. He puts a finger up to stop me from talking before he walks by me and into my bedroom.

"Lash, what the hell?" I complain as he starts opening drawers and even the closet.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll be finished in a second." He opens up my nightstand, and my face explodes in shame. Right there for him to see is my very own personal boyfriend. Except this one is of the vibrating sort.

"Oh god, close that!" I hiss and rush to close the drawer.

"Don't be ashamed; I like a woman who knows how to get herself off." He winks at me and goes about closing the closet and drawers before going back into the bathroom and grabbing the first aid kit.

"You coming?" he calls out from the living room, and I have to take a few breaths to calm myself. I'm not used to having anyone in my space, let alone someone like Lash.

I follow him into the living room and sit on the couch opposite him. He grabs hold of my hand and gently cleans off the burn. It's already starting to form a little blister. I barely feel his hands as he applies the salve to the area to numb it. I think he's going to use some gauze to wrap it, but instead, he just places my hand back on my lap.

"You're not going to wrap it up?"

"No, burns need to breathe. Once the blister pops, then you can wrap it up. You should put some burn cream on every few hours, though, to fight the pain." He reaches back into the first aid kit and plucks out the pain pills. He opens the bottle and tips one pill into his hand before he places it in front of my mouth. Is he really feeding me medicine right now? My inner feminist wants to scream that I'm more than capable of fending for myself, but this feels so good. I allow him to put the medicine on my tongue, and he reaches over to my bottle of water on the coffee table. "Drink," he orders, and I do exactly as he says.

We sit there for a few beats just staring at each other. Something is happening between us. Something I'm not ready for, but I can't stop myself no matter how hard I'm trying. His eyes go dark, and I'm nearly begging telepathically for him to take me, but he doesn't move an inch. Just when I think I'm about to throw my hands around his neck to pull him to me, the doorbell rings.

"What? Who could that be?" I swing my head to the sound. I'm not expecting anyone to show up right now.

"Your replacement meal." Lash's voice is gruff and thick with tension as he stands and walks to the door. He opens it, and right outside is a man with two big bags of takeout food.

"When did you do this? And why?" I ask as he is busy paying and thanking the delivery man. I don't miss the large tip he gives the young kid before closing the door and securing it with the chair once again.

"You told me you didn't eat." Lash shrugs as if that was all the explanation I needed.

"So I could have whipped something else up," I argue as he walks into my kitchen and grabs two plates and spoons from the drying rack. He moves around like he lives here.

"I wanted to feed you. I'll feel better knowing you're taken care of." Lash once again offers the most simplistic of explanations.

How can I fight him on this? He's only doing what he thought was right. Hell, it's what I do every day when I check up on all the strippers and nightwalkers. Besides, it feels nice having someone worry about me for a while.

"At least let me serve." I sit on the couch, feeling completely useless as I watch him put the plates out.

"With that hand, you're not doing anything." Lash shakes his head.

Lash gets busy plating a heaping amount of food on my plate. I'm grateful. My stomach growls as he works in front of me. I didn't realize how hungry I truly was until I saw all the food. He got a few different options, one being spaghetti in meat sauce, which is exactly what I'd planned to cook for myself.

He makes a plate for himself and, without any further talking, dives right in. We sit in silence for a while, both of us focused on our plates of food. It dawns on me halfway through dinner that this is by far one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. Not only is he helping me find the girls, but he came here and took care of me while I was close to losing my mind. I'm not used to letting people into my world, but I'm glad he's here.

The question is, now that I've let him in, what are his intentions?

"So what is this? Your idea of a first date?"

"I don't date, Red. I... I fuck. Though I don't mind spending time with you when you're not trying to kill me." He jokes, but the words hit home and I bluster.

---