Page 75 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy
That made my cock kick against the fabric of my pants and my mind spin.
“I want to help you. Let me?”
“Of course. Please.” Any time. Always. Today, tomorrow, and for the rest of my life, the fates willing.
She dipped a strip of the towel in the water and wrung it out before laying it over the burn. The coolness hit like a balm, making me suck in a breath. She glanced up, studying me, her hand pausing. I shook my head to show her she wasn’t hurting me. It felt good, her taking care of me. I’d never had that before with anyone other than my mother when I was young.
“I’m sorry if I’m making your pain worse,” she said softly, still focused on my arm.
I didn’t answer at first. Watching her felt like I was stepping too close to the edge of something high and unsteady. Dangerous, but beautiful.
“I’m not used to talking about pain much,” I said. “If you live in the orc kingdom long enough, you learn not to flinch.”
Her brows pulled together again, and she went quiet for a moment as she folded a dry towel under my arm, propping it up on the counter like I was made of something precious. “That doesn’t mean you have to deal with it alone.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it hit like a hammer to the chest. I looked down at her, standing there like the fate-sworn goddess of comfort and firelight, and I had to fight the urge to pull her into my lap and kiss her senseless.
I didn’t, though. Because what I wanted wasn’t just her lips. I craved everything. All of her. And I wouldn’t take more than she was ready to give.
“You’re good at that,” I said instead.
She blinked. “At what?”
“Taking care of people. You’ve done it all your life, haven’t you? For Max. For everyone but yourself.”
She didn’t say anything for a long while, just looked at me as if she wasn’t sure how to respond. I watched her throat work as she swallowed.
“Yeah,” she said eventually, her voice quiet. “I guess I have.”
I reached out and touched a lock of her hair, brushing it back behind her ear. My fingers lingered there. “Let someone take care of you now.”
She drew in a shaky breath, but she didn’t pull away. Her eyes flicked up to mine, and the air between us tightened. We were teetering on the edge of something terrifying yet wonderful.
“I’ll wrap your arm.” Her voice had gone soft again, but her hands were steady as she removed the wet fabric. She opened a bandage and began to wind it carefully around the burn.
While she cared for me, the bakery hummed quietly around us. Afternoon light spilled through the back windows, gilding her hair, softening the edges of her face.
She finished the wrapping and taped it in place, leaning back to study her work. “That should help. You’ll need to keep it clean.”
“I will.” I smiled down at her, hoping she wouldn’t notice how creaky my voice was.
Her cheeks turned pink.
When she stepped out from between my thighs, I rose. We stood in place, too close together but not close enough. Her breath caught. My injured arm hung awkwardly between us, but I wanted to touch her. Hold her face. Kiss the worry line away from between her brows.
“Thank you,” was all I could say.
“You’re welcome.”
“You don’t know what this means to me.”
I suspected she wanted to say something, but instead she reached up and brushed her fingertips along my jaw. Her hand trembled.
The bell over the bakery door jingled.
We stepped back, the spell broken.
She gave me a wobbly smile and turned to head for the front. I watched her go, my bandaged arm cradled against my chest, and I wondered how I’d ever lived without her in this space. Without her warmth. Her laughter. The sound of her humming under her breath when she worked.
I missed her when she was more than five feet away. That had to mean something.
