Page 53 of King of Pain

Her arms come around my neck, her face pressing into my neck. I have this irrational anger toward Mason. We should be on a helicopter back to Vegas. Kate should not…

“I’m so stupid,” she’s murmuring into my skin. “I’ve gone up and down that bank a thousand times. I just…”

“It’s not your fault. I distracted you.”

I bang into the house and head straight for the bedroom. Gently laying her down, I peel off her jeans, her wince cutting right through me.

As soon as I get the pants off, I can see the color already blooming on her skin.

“Shit,” I rumble, pulling the pants the rest of the way down her body.

“No, it’s okay,” she’s still breathing fast, but her voice sounds more normal. “The pain is already receding. I think it might just be a bone bruise.”

My teeth grind together as I run a gentle hand up her leg. “We should see a doctor.”

“Let me just do a few tests.”

“On yourself?”

“With your help.” She points down. “Put your hand under my knee, like this, and the other under my foot. I want to test the pain when I flex the hip.”

She has me gently manipulate the hip socket, bending it this way and that. “I didn’t hurt the bones.” She props on her elbows to give me a smile. “That’s good.”

Her shirt is plastered to her body, her stomach exposed, nothing but a pair of little bikini briefs clinging to her skin.

I slowly remove my hands from her skin. “That’s good. Good.” And then I catch a whiff of something burning.

Standing up, I turn and head out to the kitchen. She’d turned the burner way down, but it’s been sitting on simmer and the food has started to burn.

“Damn it,” she yells from the bedroom. But I smile. That’s my Kate.

And she is my Kate. I’m starting to see that.

Taking the food off the burner, I turn off the stove and scrape all the good food off the top into a bowl.

Kate appears in the kitchen in a fresh loose tank top. The kind with low arm holes that are adorable.

The problem?

She’s not wearing a bra. I can see the curve of her tit and the tank is short enough that I’ve got a great view of her ass too. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“The bed is wet,” she murmurs, wrinkling her nose. “And other than a nasty bruise, I think I’ll be fine.”

I grimace, setting down the pan. “Don’t make me put you back in myself.”

I know she’s feeling better because she gives me a cheeky grin. “How about the couch instead?”

I set down the bowl and saunter over to where she’s standing. Normally, I’d grab an ass cheek and pull her into the cradle of my hips. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers back. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, and I am so grateful you once again rescued me.”

I trace the opening of one of the tank sleeves, my finger running over the side of that plump and perfect breast. “You gonna eat in just that?”

“Putting on pants seemed… difficult.”

My hands skim down her belly. “You gonna be well enough to let me have you for dessert?”

Her skin instantly flushes. “I’m guessing we can manage.”

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