Page 15 of Brutal Mercy

“Thanks.” I take my phone, and our fingers brush. It’s a simple touch. But it zaps through me like a lightning bolt striking my veins. And his eyes fucking smolder. He feels it too—the wicked, palpable chemistry. Clogging the air between us with so much sexual tension all it’ll take is a single spark to ignite a raging inferno of spine-tingling desire.

Minutes tick by. Tension builds the longer we stare at each other. My gaze drops to his lips. I want them on me so badly I ache with it. I swallow past the lump in my throat, tearing my gaze away and breaking the staggeringly powerful connection. Because for a moment, with our gazes locked on one another, I thought he was going to kiss me. And hell, but I want him to. I want him to remove the decision from my hands, eradicate the distance, and let me lose myself in him.

But it would be one of the most selfish things I would ever do. My sister needs me because I’m all she’s got.

Fighting my body, I ignore his naked chest as best I can, but there’s just so much of it. And seriously, he must work out relentlessly to have such a sculpted chest. But Hades makes me feel small and dainty. Two words I never thought I would use in reference to myself. Focusing on the task at hand, I find her number in my saved contacts and call my sister.

It rolls directly to voicemail. So I try again. And again. My anxiety rises with each unanswered call. On the fifth try with no answer, my decision is sealed.

Dammit!

I need to get up from the softest bed I’ve ever slept in. Hobble into the bathroom. And then I have to get dressed and head home. Hopefully, I can get a ride, because there’s no way I can walk the ten miles home through the mountains. Wincing because movement jostles my injured ankle, I toss off the blanket and attempt to climb onto all fours so I can crawl to the edge of the bed.

But Hades places his massive hand on my shoulder. His firm touch stops me. “Whoa. Just where do you think you’re going?”

I glance his way and almost climax on the damn spot. Because when I tossed the covers off me, it also uncoveredhissexy body. And he’s wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. I drink in the sight of him. My mouth waters.

Holy hell!

He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. And I ache to touch him. Everything about him, from his face to his body to his gentle caretaking and even the aura of danger that surrounds him, tempts me. I want to toss myself at him. Climb him like a jungle gym and have him show me what sex is all about.

Everything inside me wants him. I start to reach out my hand, entranced by his body. But I snatch it back before I cross a line I can’t uncross.

Fuck, I can’t let my sister fend for herself. She won’t be eighteen for another three weeks. And I admit I’ve babied her. But she was only fourteen when Mom and Dad died.

“My sister’s not answering my calls. I have to check on her. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I can’t leave her alone. She’ll be frantic.” And I’m worried. Did something happen to her when I didn’t come home? Did she go stay with a friend? The possibilities for what might have happened are too numerous to count, and my anxiety will spin out until I see her and know she’s okay.

He doesn’t remove his hand from my shoulder and instead squeezes it, offering me reassurance. And it makes me want to cry. It’s been so long since anyone offered me any comfort. His touch arrows deep into my soul.

“I’ll take you. Just sit here while I get things arranged.”

“I can’t.” He frowns at my refusal.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I explain. And I can’t believe I’m telling a man I barely know I need to pee. How embarrassing.

Hades nods and climbs out of bed. I try not to ogle him, but damn, he is one fine-ass man. Before I realize his intent, he leans down, slides one of his brawny arms beneath my knees, and circles the other around my back.

“Put your arms around my neck.” His words, though calm, fall like an order. But I don’t take offense. I’m too startled by the heat his touch generates inside me to do anything but what he asked. And I loop my arms around his neck. The move puts our faces inches from one another.

And this close, I spy pale specks of gold in his ice-blue eyes. He has thick lashes the same shade of light chestnut as his hair. His cheeks are finely honed blades. There’s a small cleft in his chin, and I have the sudden urge to drag my tongue through it.

Hades lifts me like I don’t weigh more than a feather, his arm muscles flexing but holding me with ease. I am not a small woman. I’m tall with ample breasts and hips in an hourglass figure. While I’m fit and in shape, I realized by the time I hit fourteen and was taller than most of the boys in my class that my body would never be model thin. And I’ve made my peace with it.

But Hades makes me feel downright dainty and feminine.

He carries me into the bathroom. “I’m going to lower you to your feet and make sure you can stand. Be careful with that ankle.”

He lowers me, and I place my right foot down on the tile floor. Wincing, I hold my left foot off the ground.

“You got it?” he asks, studying me like he’s gauging whether he needs to help me pull down my panties and get me on the toilet.

“I should be fine.” Although my right leg trembles from trying to balance, and I’m worried the moment he lets me go, I’ll trip, wind up on his bathroom floor, and pee myself.

But he nods and removes his hands, retreating a step. “When you’re finished, yell, and I’ll come get you. Don’t try to walk on that leg by yourself, or all you will do is hurt yourself even more.”

It’s been ages since anyone has taken care of me. I want to bask in it. “Um, I won’t.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” He nods and swivels on his heel. And I stare slack-jawed. He’s got a full back tattoo. It’s stunning and just as volatile as the man. It’s a depiction of the god Hades, sitting on a throne of skulls. It starts at his neck and powerful shoulders, then descends to his waist. I want to trace my fingers over the inky lines and study his muscular back more closely.

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