Page 42 of Stay for Me

Then and only then did she finally lift her head to look at me, her cheeks tinted red as embarrassment flickered in her hazel eyes. They were more brown today, the moss green within them barely visible. My eyes dropped down, scanning her body and stopping at her knees, the sight of the red indentions in her skin from the rocks nearly sending me over the edge.

I held my breath as I continued my assessment all the way down to her feet.

“Don’t move,” I ordered, not looking at her face again. If I did that, I would do something stupid. Very stupid. Without another word, I headed back over to Midnight and opened a saddle bag. My horse whinnied but didn’t move. As I tucked my water and small first aid kit under my arm, I patted her neck. “Good girl,” I murmured.

Once I was back in front of Diana, I set the water and small leather bag beside her hip, ignoring the urge to trail my finger along the swell of it. I shouldn’t have touched her.

Lifting her into my arms was the single worst thing a man like me could’ve ever done.

Now ,I knew what she feels like, knew the warmth of her skin, the weight of her body in my arms. It was the different kind of torture entirely. I could make do with being around her, but now that I’d had her in my arms, there was no other place I wanted her to be.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, watching my hands.

“Cut,” I answered gruffly, my throat suddenly thick. Before she could give me more of her sweet voice, I moved again, catching the back of her right ankle in my hand and lifting her leg. She tensed as I rested her foot on my thigh, pouring some of my water over the cut on the right side of her foot. The gray dirt washed away, her skin now shining in the sunlight.

Then, the blood came, oozing from the wound, and every single cell in my body froze.

Blood.

Diana’s blood.

It blended with the small stream of water, turning pink as it ran over her skin before dripping onto the ground.

“I didn’t see that,” she murmured. “I didn’t even feel it.”

There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to scold her, to punish her for hurting herself. I had half a mind to take her over my knee right here, underneath the summer sun, and spank her until she promised to call me the next time she needed help. My chest began to heave then, knowing she didn’t have a man to take care of her, to protect her. She was alone, and when shit like this happened, she had to stand in the gravel barefoot, cut her skin on a rock—

“Mags?”

I blinked, and suddenly, everything came back into focus. My hand had slid up, holding underneath her calf, my fingers pressing into the soft flesh. My eyes flicked up, and our gazes collided. Those pretty pink lips parted, her pupils dilated, and her chest—fuck me, her chest was heaving now. Up and down, up and down, up and down, matching the pace of mine.

My mouth watered.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Takin’ care of you.”

“I don’t need you to do that.”

I held her eyes as the words spilled from my tongue faster than I could stop them. “Not an option, Firefly.”

Her eyes widened, giving me the same reaction she did two years ago at the Christmas party.

Firefly.

That was who she was to me, and that would never change, even on the days I wanted it to.

She said nothing, staring at me as if she was trying to see inside my soul. It was the only place I didn’t want her to see. There was nothing good within it—within me.

“Sit still,” I ordered, pulling my gaze from her eyes and getting back to cleaning her wound. Once that was done, I put a bandage over the wound and set about cleaning the bottoms of her feet.

“What are you doing?” she asked softly.

“Don’t need you ruining your shoes,” I murmured, keeping my head down.

I pulled the bandana I always carried out of my back pocket, soaked it with water, and gently began wiping the soles of her feet.

She whimpered, stifling a giggle, the sound halting my movements. “What is it?” I demanded, looking back up at her.

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