Page 37 of Love Me, I Dare You

My heart beats rapidly in my chest at the gesture, which looked way more erotic in my head than it was, as he continues to move in slow motion. Long, careful fingers reach for the zipper of my boot, careful not to touch my skin. He quickly unzips it and shimmies it off my foot. I’m completely mesmerized as I watch him work so delicately as to not hurt me.

Unable to think straight, I blink rapidly, turning away from his naked chest and remembering the horrible pain I’m in. My hands clutch the comforter beneath my fingers, and I bite my tongue to suppress the scream I want to let out.

“It’s my parents' anniversary dinner.” I answer his earlier question, though for a moment he looks confused, like he forgot what he asked me. Maybe he’s just as distracted as I am.

Nash looks up at me through thick dark lashes, his face suddenly blank at the mention of my parents. I know he and my dad never got along, so it’s no surprise he’s not eager to hear about them or their celebration.

The moment my foot comes into view, my boot falling to the ground with a soft thud, I can see the bold swelling around my ankle. The skin looks red and raw and hurts just as bad as it looks.

“Yup, it’s sprained,” he says, looking down at my swollen ankle. He softly presses his thumb into the raw skin and it sends a sharp sting of pain through me.

“Fuck, don’t touch it, Bishop,” I cry out, throwing my head back in agony.

“I need to check that it’s not broken.” He sounds almost apologetic, but I’m in too much pain to not give him some sassy remark.

“So what, you're also a doctor now?” Realizing I’m acting like a total bitch when he’s only trying to help, I shrug off my unease at his closeness. Trying not to focus on how good his touch feels, I apologize for my tone. “Sorry. It’s fine. I’ll ice it when I get back. Now put my shoe back on so I can get out of here.”

He quickly jumps to his feet but doesn’t put my boot back on like I asked. “Great. Let me grab another shirt and I’ll take you down to the hospital.”

I straighten up and try to stand, though I let out another shriek and fall back onto the bed when my foot touches the floor. “Oh no, no, no. You’re crazy.”

Nash scoffs, incredulous. “What? You don’t want me to put a shirt on? Bailey, I think poor Maggie down at the reception desk is going to have a stroke if she sees all of this.”

I roll my eyes at his exasperating personality that drives me mad. “Asshole, that's not what I meant. I mean, so I can get to my parent’s dinner which I am already so late for. You're crazy if you think I'm going to the hospital.”

His brows furrow as the playfulness in his eyes fades to nothing but seriousness. “Bailey, you need medical attention.”

“I’m going to need a coroner if I don’t get my ass to the King Estate in the next five minutes.”

Not content with my answer, but also too visibly exhausted to fight me, Nash has no choice but to drop it. “Suit yourself.”

“Thank you.” Though he doesn't slip my boot back onto my foot like I thought he would.

Unbuttoning his jeans that are already sitting dangerously low on his hips, giving me the perfect view of the V-shape that disappears into the waistband of his boxers, he heads to my bathroom.

“Give me five minutes to take a shower and I’ll drive you.”

“What?” I shriek, a lot more high pitched than I expected. “There’s no way you’re going to drive me up to my daddy’s ranch.”

“What are you, twelve?” He asks, clearly not amused. “I’ll pretend to be the Uber driver.”

“Ha, that won’t fool anyone. You drive a fucking motorcycle.”

“Then we’ll take your car.”

Not the worst idea he’s had tonight, but no, it definitely won’t work. “No, I’ll just put on some flat shoes, and I’ll be fine to drive.” I try to stand again, but the moment my foot touches the floor, I nearly fold over and hit the ground in pain. “Oh, fuck me, that hurts.”

Nash rushes to my side in an instant, his arms back around me before I can even finish screaming. Strong hands hold me up by my waist, fingers digging into me as he lifts me back into the bed and settles between my open legs. Slowly, he folds one leg back, my dress hiking up my leg as he does, settling in a scrunched up mess on my upper thigh.

Warm, calloused fingers caress the soft skin of my calf down to the swollen, tender skin around my ankle.

“This is how it’s going to go,” he says, with no hint of humor in his tone. The hard muscles in his jaw flex as his gaze lowers to my chest and the incredible amount of cleavage this dress gives me. It was one reason I bought it. It makes my tits look good. Tits I know he enjoys staring at since I’ve caught him plenty of times glancing down my top. He slowly leans forward enough for me to smell the hint of sweat mixed with his fading cologne. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Five minutes tops. I’ll throw on some clean clothes and drive you to your parents' little dinner. You’ll tell them you’re injured, show them your clearly swollen foot, and I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“But,” I complain, but he shushes me with a long finger against my lips. The urge to stick my tongue out and lick it is so strong, but I clench my teeth to hold back.

“Or we go to the hospital now and your parents can eat without you. It’s your choice, Angel.”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat at the pure, carnal need this man incites within me. The way he’s so close to me yet still so far away makes me want to reach for the shiny silver chain around his neck and pull him in closer to me, only to crash my lips to his in a fervent need.

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