Page 6 of Wicked Ends
One corner of his lip lifted as he nodded, acknowledging my jibe.
“Here.” Marcus moved past me to grab the first-aid kit from the dresser.
“Thanks,” I muttered, taking the box. I felt better holding the supplies, like I had a purpose here.
I sat on the edge of the bed and glanced up at him. He was standing in front of me, and now that I was sitting, he toweredover my much smaller frame. He was a big guy. Big and strong and clearly no stranger to biker bars and fights. Heat crawled across my skin. I was hyperaware of him. It was a relief, really, that I could feel so comfortable alone with a man. I hadn’t been sure if I’d ever be, after that night, months ago. Tonight was proving something to me that felt like a real victory. I wasn’t afraid of all men. I’d been afraid of a particular one… more monster than man… but he hadn’t broken me. Marcus the Hot Bartender looming over me in the dark wasn’t triggering the same fight-or-flight response state I’d lived in the for the last five years.
“Come here,” I said softly, and it came out oddly throaty, the atmosphere close and intimate.
Nope, that’s just your dirty mind, Arianna.
He stepped closer and held out his injured hand. I focused on the large gash across his palm. I hissed as I inspected it, gently dabbing it with a piece of antiseptic-soaked gauze.
He was utterly silent.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” I picked the glass splinters out of the cut.
He raised a heavy shoulder, uncaring.
I tugged at his wrist. “Sit, I can’t reach you up there.”
Slowly, he stepped to my side and sank down next to me. His knee pressed into my thigh, and honestly, it was the most erotic experience I’d had in years. I put his hand on my lap and cleaned it carefully.
Once I was done, I looked up and found Marcus’ eyes on me.
“Are you okay?” I asked as I reached for the antiseptic cream.
He nodded. “You’re a pro at this. You a professional?”
An involuntary chuckle left me. “Not at all. Just an amateur with plenty of experience, though, I have to say, it’s easier to do it on someone else,” I babbled.
Marcus’ voice was low. “What kind of experience?”
“Nothing,” I brushed off his question and taped a large bandage over his palm, gently smoothing it. “All done. Try not to get it wet for a little bit.”
He nodded, and his eyes fell to my lips. Heat slid down my spine, and I was all too aware of being alone with this man, sitting on a bed. My breath grew short, my skin tingled, and I wanted nothing more than for him to close the gap between us and kiss me. I felt wild and reckless and completely unlike myself. Maybe that was a good thing. Being myself had only brought me misery… maybe it was time to be someone else.
“What’s your name, birthday girl?” Marcus asked.
“A-Arianna” the truth slipped out before I could call it back.Shit.I’d told him my real name and not the one I was going by here. The fake documents in my bag said my name was Anna. Apparently, the closer to the truth a lie was, the easier it was to remember. Unsurprisingly, I’d already messed up. I wasn’t cut out for a life of subterfuge.
“Arianna.Ari.” His gaze was still on my lips. Then he brought his hands up to cup my face.
My heart felt like it might punch out of my rib cage. This was really happening. He was going to kiss me.
“You need ice on that.” His low murmur took a few seconds to break through the fever in my head.
Wait, what?
“Sorry?” I asked, breathless.
“Your lip is swelling.” His blunt-tipped finger slid gently along my mouth, and a sharp sting broke the spell.
“Ouch!”
“Here, put some antiseptic on it.” He put some on his finger and brought it up to my mouth.
“I can do it,” I protested mildly.
