Page 32 of King of Obsession

He eyed me with wariness but jerked his head, settling into the lounge.

I handed him a glass and two pills, which he chugged down with greedy thirst.

‘Scusa, cara, for manhandling you,’ he growled after a beat. ‘I was hallucinating for a moment. I thought you were some intruder.’

‘You’ve had a hit to the back of your head,’ I said with some reluctance, ‘perhaps you need to see a doctor. It could be a concussion.’

‘Fuck no,’ he snarled. ‘It’ll bring us heat we don’t need. It’s you and me, woman.’

I conceded with a shrug. ‘Your funeral. At least let me check on your injuries?’

‘Bene,’ he rasped.

I rose and approached him, bending over his seated form.

I plumped and set some soft pillows behind him so he’d be comfortable.

Then I got to work.

Silence fell between us, thick and unyielding, as I busied myself with unraveling my initial bandages and cleaning up any mess in his wound.

I observed that he was healing well, and I attributed the fast recovery to his freakish fitness, evidenced in his bunched muscles and sinewed bulk.

His eyes never left me as I wrapped him up.

They raked over my face, my shoulders, even my tits, unabashed.

The color shifted from gold to amber and yellow, and even a flaming coppery russet was unusual, but apart from tiny sneak peeks, I refused to meet his eyes.

With the last of the bandages secured, I patted his healthy shoulder. ‘You’re all done.’

Eyes still dilated, and out of focus, he lifted a hand to stroke my cheek.

I flinched and stepped back, creating a physical distance to match the emotional chasm that had formed.

His hand dropped, even as his lips curled at my reaction to him.

‘So where are we sleeping tonight?’

‘We?’

‘Si,’ he rasped. ‘You and I,’ he continued, unabashed, as if we were discussing the weather rather than an invasion of my private space.

Still, I tagged a gleam in his eyes.

Was the fucker flirting with me? Or was the fever scrambling his mind?

‘What the actual hell?’ I whispered.

My vocalization only served to heat him further.

His gruff mask fell away, and in place was a sensual, brooding vibe, complete with roaming, scorching eyes, all over me, undressing me.

Damn, he was brazen.

‘Are the painkillers doing a number on you?’ I snapped, letting my annoyance at him leak through.

‘Temperare, woman,’ he drawled, enunciating the ‘r’s’ with a rolled inflection.

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