Page 83 of Empire of Ache & Ruin

He smiles then switches his attention to the dressing on his shoulder. When he peels it off, the wound underneath looks bright red and angry.

“Jesus.” I step closer. “You got hurt.” I grab the numbing cream.

When I make to touch him, he grips my wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you.” I slowly free my arm from his hold. “If you don’t dress this properly, it’s going to get infected.”

“I think it’s already there.” He winces.

“Did it bite you?” I clean the area with gauze.

“No. I think it got me with its hind legs.” He braces both hands on either side of the sink. “I think that’s the good news. No rabies shot needed.”

“What were you thinking fighting a wild animal like that? It could’ve killed you,” I admonish as I look for the disinfecting ointment.

“I was thinking that I didn’t want it to kill you.” He hangs his head, and the muscles on his back ripple in response.

I glance up at the mirror. When he peeks at me, I say softly, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He flashes me a sexy smile and turns slightly to look me in the eyes.

Heat rushes to my cheek. Being this close to him is like an aphrodisiac. I swallow and dab the medicine on the wound. He watches me intently as I grab a butterfly stitch and use it to hold the top of the ripped skin together. My heart races under his scrutiny. He doesn’t even look at my stitching work, he just focuses on my features. I swallow and grab four other butterfly stitches.

“This is going to hurt,” I say.

“Do what you have to do.” His gaze never leaves mine.

Ignoring his woodsy scent, I squeeze the cut skin to make the two ends meet, then quickly, and as neatly as possible, I add the sticky stitches to hold the whole wound together.

“Hmm.” He grips the edge of the vanity.

“Sorry.” I make to kiss his shoulder but stop midway. “Umm. I think it’s better if you don’t cover it. Let it air out.” I place my hand on his waist, the smooth skin on his shoulder only inches from my lips. I want to kiss all of him.

“Thank you.” Slowly, he turns to face me.

A charge around us crackles as he lifts his hand to touch my cheek. He opens his mouth as if he’s about to ask me something but then decides against it. I stand with hot adrenaline burning through me as he studies me with lust in his eyes. I can’t stand that he’s this close, and I still can’t have him.

“I have work to do this morning. I’ll come back to check on you.” His gaze drops to my lips for a breath, then he takes off.

After I recover from being so close to him, I return to his bed and pick up a book he left on the bedside table. I’m wearing nothing but his T-shirt in hopes that when he returns, he’ll finally give me my wedding night. All day, I wait for him to come back to me, but he doesn’t. And I don’t go looking for him either. Around five in the afternoon, the landline on his bedside table rings.

It rings again, and I just stare at it unsure of what to do. In the end, I pick up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Archer,” Mary Jane greets me. “I’m sorry to bother you, I was wondering if you’d like to take your dinner now.”

“Let me guess, you’re not allowed on the third floor, so he makes you call him?” I laugh.

“He has hours when we’re allowed to come in and clean. But since you were sleeping, he wanted us to let you be,” she says as if his guarded behavior is totally normal. “What about your dinner?”

“Don’t worry about it. I think I’ll join Mr. Archer tonight.” I run a hand through my hair. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Very well, Mrs. Archer,” she says, and I can almost see her beaming from ear to ear.

I hang up the phone and hop out of bed to get ready downstairs in my bedroom. A part of me is grateful that Archer is making it easier for us to pretend we have a real marriage. But the thing is that I’m tired of pretending. I want him to admit that he feels something for me, something that’s way more than lust.

The way he took care of me last night tells me there’s more between us than he’s willing to admit. I want him to say it, to face what we have without fear.

Two hours later, I’m wearing the red dress he bought me. The one that looks like the one I wore when we first met. It’s a daring design with a plunge V neckline and a silky red fabric that flows beautifully with every step and hugs my body perfectly. I look at my reflection in the mirror, pulling on the middle to cover more of my cleavage. But the dress doesn’t budge.

---