Demo’s good mood soured as he admitted, “It’s my shoulder. I have nerve damage from an injury about six months ago.”
Paige came around the reception counter, her eyes fixed on his shoulder. She knew immediately which one he meant from how stiff he was holding the arm. Even with his cut and jacket on, she could tell.
“Can you remove your jacket for me please?” Paige indicated to the coat tree by the front door as she reached into the pocket of her lab coat for a pair of latex gloves. Some acupuncturists looked down on her for using them, claiming that they took away from the transference of energy, but Paige was too conscious of illnesses and diseases she could potentially bring around her sons to not wear the gloves. Additionally, the shower in the back was why she had chosen this building for her lease even though it was bigger than her requirements. She always made sure to sanitize and shower before returning home to her sons.
When Demo returned to her without his jacket but still wearing his cut, she fought to roll her eyes. Even Lucky treated the garment like it was sewn with pure gold thread. There was even a rule about the cuts not being able to touch the ground, like there were for American Flags. A part of her wanted to ask if they had to burn the cuts too if they touched the floor.
“What happened?” she inquired, putting on one glove.
“Bullet,” he said shortly.
Paige froze with her second glove only halfway on her hand. She looked up at him. He was about six inches taller than her five-foot-six frame. Richard was only two inches taller at five-eight. It had always been a point of contention for him that he hadn’t been taller like his father and was the same height as his little sister.
Is, she corrected herself. Richard might be in her past, but until she was able to serve him divorce papers, he was still a part of her life.
The moment Demo said ‘bullet’, though, Paige knew exactly how he’d gotten injured. “You’re the one who got shot protecting Jasmine.”
“Poorly protecting Jasmine,” he amended. There was definitely self-contempt in his voice. Like he hadn’t doneenoughwhen he’d gotten shot.
Paige knew the story. Jasmine and Sophia had been kidnapped after stumbling across an illegal dog-fighting ring just outside of town. Harper had told her that one of the club brothers had been shot protecting Jasmine, but she hadn’t said who. Paige wasn’t close enough to any of the brothers other than Lucky and Bulldog for ‘who’ to have mattered. It would have been nothing more than a faceless name.However, what had stuck with her was the sacrifice of that member. He could havediedprotecting Jasmine. Who does that? Besides the Secret Service?
Apparently, Demo did. Paige recalled Harper saying he had taken two bullets, but Demo had used the singular definition.
“I wouldn’t call taking a bullet for someone ‘poor protection’,” Paige told him sternly, making sure her voice portrayed her disagreement with his word choice.
“Taking a bullet also didn’t stop her from being taken,” he asserted.
Paige finished putting on the second glove. Her hesitation at her next question wasn’t as a practitioner but as a woman. She needed to know the answer, but she didn’twantto know either. “Harper told me about it. If I recall correctly, she’d said you were shot with…two bullets.” Her voice cracked on the word ‘two’.
He nodded. Demo untucked his shirt from his belted pants to reveal his right abdomen. A few inches to the right of his belly button was a vertical scar, about an inch and a half long.
Paige swallowed hard.Wow. Every female part of her body woke up and took notice of his firmly muscled stomach. Richard had paid an ungodly amount of money over the years for gym memberships and personal trainers to not even get a single pack, let alone six of them. Demo’s middle was firm and cut. The hard ridges of his body were as defined as a marble sculpture.
Paige had to bite the interior of her bottom lip to keep from licking her lips—or worse: asking if she could lickhim. Her nipples sharpened to tight peaks against her bra and there was an embarrassing damp spot forming on her panties that reminded her she hadn’t had sex since before her three-year-old son was born. In fact, the last time she’d had sex might have been when she’d conceived him.
Richard had not been a generous lover. Nor had he been an understanding one. Her period had been ‘gross’ and he refused to even sleep in the same bed as her when she was menstruating. Her cramps had been a figment of her imagination. Pregnancy had been a means to an end, one that he did not partake in. Despite her assurances that it was safe to have pregnancy sex, Richard had refused. Something about the baby being able to see his penis from inside the womb. To this day, Paige still did not know if he was joking.
Even though she was a mother of two, she probably had only had sex with her husband a dozen or so times over the course of their seven-year marriage. He’d refused to touch her after Mikey had been born due to the baby weight she’d gained.
When they’d been dating, they’d been unable to keep their hands off of each other. It was one of the reasons Paige had suspected him of having an affair or multiple affairs, because she knew he wasn’t satisfying himself with her. It was like putting a ring on her finger had turned her unattractive and unappealing to him.
Needing to hide her reaction to Demo’s body, Paige bent forward as if she was examining the healed wound closer. Her heart was beating like a drum line in her chest, she was surprised her boobs weren’t visibly dancing to the tune. She felt flushed and a little lightheaded.
Unfortunately, getting closer to him was a mistake. His scent enveloped her like a cloud, seeping into her pores. The perfect mixture ofOld Spice, leather, and manly musk.
Paige rose slowly, knowing she couldn’t remain bent over and staring at his abs for too long without drawing suspicion. After all, his abs were not his problem area.
Their eyes met. His sea green to her chocolate brown. Demo had a unique shade of caramel brown hair that made her wonder if he dyed it to achieve that color. The sides of his head were shorn close to his skin with a burst fade mohawk, the longer strands falling backward versus standing straight up in the air. The look did not appear juvenile or unprofessional on him. If anything, it gave him an aura of confidence and masculine strength.
There was nothingyouthfulabout him, despite being two years her junior.
His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared. There was something powerful, almost possessive in his gaze on her. For a moment, Paige thought he might kiss her. God, she wanted him to.
Paige forced herself to step back. It had been a long time since she’d been this attracted to a man. Beyond that, he was her patient. It was entirely unprofessional and unethical to even consider kissing him.
“Um,” she cleared her throat, “follow me back to the therapy room please. Let me take a look at your shoulder.”
She turned her back on him, needing to put distance between them but also clear him out of her vision. He was about to take off his shirtandpants. It was going to be hard enough when he did so—God, she hoped that statement did not turn into a pun.