Page 50 of Steel

After he wraps the towel around me, he guides me to the toilet seat and grabs the first aid kit from the cabinet. Silence fills the bathroom as he tends to the wound on my leg, and I stare down at his damp hair, my fingers itching to brush through it. For a big man, his hands are gentle as he applies the antibiotic ointment and bandage, and it’s in direct contrast to the rough sex we just had.

He moves my wet hair to the side so he can get to the bite mark on my shoulder, rubbing some ointment on it but leaving it bandage-free. The way he caresses the skin has me biting my lip. because it’s as if he’s fascinated with the mark he’s left behind.

I suppose I can understand the fascination. While we’ve been rough all the other times before and he’s left marks, none of them were such a blatantly visible claim of ownership as this one.

If only I knew the meaning behind it and his feelings on it.

“Goin’ to scar,” he mutters.

“Not going to be the first one, bossman. Stop worrying about it.”

Steel brushes his thumb over the bite mark a few more times before pulling away and cleaning up the supplies. “Put this shit on it for the next few days.”

I bite my lip, trying to hold in my laugh, because he’s fucking cute trying to explain how to take care of a wound like I haven’t just been taking care of a freaking gunshot wound for the last week. “Got it, bossman.”

He shoots me a snarl and spins on his feet to march out of the bathroom, and I’m unable to hold in the giggle as his towel slips off his ass, causing him to release a growl of frustration.

Grabbing the Tylenol from the cabinet, I shake a couple into my hand and toss them into my mouth, cupping my hand under the faucet, running some water into it, and bringing it to my mouth to wash the tablets down. “You know,” I say, shutting the cabinet door and hobbling into the living room after him, “you’re awfully grumpy for someone who just got laid.”

I try not to let the fact that he’s already almost dressed bother me. It’s not like I expected him to stay. He rarely ever did unless we were having one of our weekends together.

Same shit, different day, it seems.

“Need to get Lyric,” he says, sliding his boots onto his feet.

Since I’m feeling a tad bit vulnerable now, I leave the towel wrapped around myself as I slide a clean pair of panties up my hips and a t-shirt over my head, then I pull the towel out from under them.

It’s probably not the best idea to be wearing a shirt an ex-fuck buddy left behind around someone like Steel, but right now, I’m feeling petty enough to want to spite him. Hell, it’s not like he’s going to give a shit anyway.

He still hasn’t put his shirt on yet, so I let my eyes drift over him, soaking him in and savoring the sight because there’s no telling when I’ll get to see him like this again.

A loud growl reverberates around the living room, and my eyes jerk to his. Those bright emerald eyes of his spark with anger. A flush settles high on his cheek bones, barely visible beneath hisbeard, and his fists clench and unclench as he stares at what I’m wearing.

“Take it off.”

“What?” I ask, my voice trembling, whether in excitement or in fear, I have no damn clue.

“Take it the fuck off,” he growls slowly, straightening from where he was perched against the couch.

Okay, so maybe he does give a shit.

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, Bailee.

Why the heck did I think it would be a good idea to do something so stupid?

“It’s just a shirt. What in the world is wrong with you?”

Sure, just keep adding to it, Bails. Really smart.

He closes the distance between us so fast, I don’t have time to do anything but stand there wide-eyed as he reaches out and grabs hold of the collar of the t-shirt. The muscles in his arms strain as he grips it in both hands and yanks harshly, the sound of the material tearing loud in the quiet room.

Goosebumps dance along my skin at the primitive move, and my nipples pebble once the cool air brushes against them. Then he makes a necklace around my throat with his hand so his thumb rests on one jawline and his index finger rests on the other.

Steel leans down until his nose brushes against mine. As I stare deep into his eyes, I swear I can see the flames of hell burning behind them.

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “Don’t wear another fuckin’ man’s clothes. Don’t give a damn where we are, I see them on you, goin’ to rip them off and shred them to pieces.”

The possessive menace in his voice shocks me as much as it delights me. It’s not something he’s ever shown before, and while I know it’s not smart, I absolutely freaking love it. It meanshe finally sees me as something more than someone to just stick his dick in.

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