Page 172 of Scatter the Bones

Then she served us homemade bread.

She’s violence wrapped in sweetness.

“How’s my favorite patient?” Margot’s warm voice pulls me from my dark thoughts.

She’s leaning in the doorway, still dressed in the soft gray blouse and slacks she threw on earlier to meet a client downstairs.

“Better now.”

“Um, what have you been thinking about?” Her gaze drops pointedly.

I glance down at the tented sheet covering me from the waist down.

“Huh.” A huff of a laugh escapes me. “I was thinking about you, actually.”

“Really?” She toys with the top button of her blouse, slipping it loose with a flick of her fingers.

I push my palms into the mattress, shifting upright until I’m sitting. “Get those clothes off.”

Laughing softly, she finishes unbuttoning her blouse, then turns around, dropping it slightly, giving me a glimpse of bare shoulder.

“Off,” I growl.

She still moves too slowly. Teasing the hell out of me. Stripping piece by piece until she’s down to just her bra and panties.

My blood’s on fire. Cock at full attention now.

She slides over to the side of the bed, standing just out of reach.

“I should look at your leg first.”

“It can wait.” I flip the sheet back. “Get in here.”

She climbs in carefully, every movement cautious but deliberate, as if she’s afraid one wrong move will rip open my stitches.

She kneels beside me, eyes locked on mine. “Now what?”

Margot

“Make out with me.” His voice is low, rough, and the warmth of his palm gliding up my thigh has the power to unravel me.

So gentle yet commanding.

My heart kicks harder at his simple request. I lean in, brushing my lips over the stubble on his cheek.

“Little more,” he murmurs, voice even raspier now. One strong arm hooks around my waist and his hand curves over my butt in a possessive squeeze that sends heat straight through me. “Come here.”

“Where?” I whisper, my gaze flicking down to the bandage on his thigh. “I don’t want to hurt your leg.”

“You won’t.” His fingers tighten at my waist, dragging me closer with the kind of strength that makes my stomach dip and flutter. “Straddle me.”

I shift with care, my knee brushing the edge of the bandage. My weight settles across his hips, and heat flares between us, low and deep.

“Better?” I ask, anchoring myself with my hands on his shoulders.

His lips quirk in that devilish half-smile that always melts me. “Getting there.”

A low, gravelly hum vibrates in his chest as he cups the back of my head and pulls me down. His lips crash into mine, stealing my breath and sparking a wildfire under my skin. Heat surges through me, deep and urgent. I slide one hand to the nape of his neck, leaning in, careful to keep my legs steady and avoid bumping his wound.

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