Page 280 of Branded
Cas—Luca—spun us around, propelling me down the hall, leaving Chelsea still talking behind us, but I barely heard another word because then I was inside the women’s restroom and my arm was in the sink, and Cas was turning on the faucet.
Warm water on my skin.
The volume increasing in the hall…then abruptly cutting off.
And all the while, Cas didn’t seem to notice.
His fingers were gentle as they smoothed soap over my skin, rinsing it with the warm water. Then washing it again.
Like him shifting me behind him in the hall, talking with Ethan, dealing with Sparky, his actions settled deep.
Even though they probably shouldn’t.
Even though they probably didn’t mean anything except that he was a good guy looking after someone who was hurt because of him.
Not that I was blaming him (or reading too much into what he was doing, for that matter). I was just acutely sensitive to it because I’d never had that type of care growing. No mom. A resentful, angry father. Getting my booboos gently tended hadn’t been something I was used to?—
The water shut off.
Cas blotted my skin with a paper towel.
Gently. So gently.
“I’m okay, you know,” I whispered. This hurt was…nothing.
His head tipped up, gaze hitting mine, eyes still furious.
But he didn’t say anything, just kept blotting until my skin was dry. “You need to be bandaged up,” he said, shifting my arm from side to side as he stared at my skin, “but I don’t think any of these need stitches.”
“I’m fine,” I told him. “Promise.”
His eyes flickering.
His fingers tightening.
Then slowly, oh so slowly, he lifted my arm, pressed his lips to the inside of my elbow well above the cuts. After, he inhaled deeply enough that I shivered.
“You’re cold,” he murmured, lips still on my skin.
I still had his hoodie from the last time he’d presumed that. Hadn’t been able to bring myself to return it. Not when I’d begun sleeping in it—wrapped in his warmth, his scent.
“No,” I whispered.
My voice was husky.
“No?” he asked, heat in amongst those flickering eyes, and I knew, like last time, he read between the lines, that he knew exactly what I was thinking.
Mutely, I shook my head in answer.
“So, if not cold then…” He trailed his lips a little higher, pushing the sleeve of my tee up, dragging his mouth along the inside of my biceps, and I shivered again. “Warm?” he asked silkily.
Another shake of my head.
“Hot?”
Yeah, okay, that was the one.
And even though I didn’t nod, I knew he felt the answer. Because I shivered again and then melted against him. Oh God, that was good—his hot, hard body all along mine.
