Page 123 of Hunted to Be Mine
“Just getting you clean.” The words stayed steady. The tension in his forearm did not.
One more pass, and the cloth skimmed my nipple. I arched despite the protest from my ribs.
“The water’s cooling,” he said, voice rougher now. “Time to get out.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He stood and reached for a towel. “Not adding a cold to the list.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
“True. But I am the one who can lift you, and you need me functional.” He held out the towel. “So behave.”
I grumbled but let him help me up. Water slid off my body. He wrapped the terry around me, eyes betraying him when they dropped to the droplets tracing a path between my breasts.
“Stop looking at me like that if you’re not going to do anything about it.”
His mouth curved. “Who says I’m not?”
Before I could answer, he scooped me up, careful of the cast. I yelped.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking you somewhere warmer.” He carried me to the bedroom where a fire burned in the hearth, throwing heat across the room.
He set me on the edge of the bed and knelt with a second towel. Methodical, lingering strokes worked from ankle to calf to thigh. Each pass stoked the heat building inside me.
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Of course.” No denial. “I have to be careful with you. You’re injured.”
“Not everywhere.”
His mouth twitched as he dried the space between my thighs. The towel barely brushed me. Air hit damp skin, and I inhaled sharply.
“Tease.”
“Language, Doctor.” He moved to my arms, avoiding the places I wanted him most.
I reached for him, and he caught my wrist. “Patience.”
“I’ve been patient for days.” It came out as a growl. “I thought you were gone. I thought I’d lost you.”
Something in his face shifted, the playfulness stripped away. “I heard you,” he said quietly. “In that lab, when you were trying to reach me. I heard every word, but I couldn’t respond.”
The room held still. He’d been conscious. Aware. Trapped.
“Do you know what it did to me? Watching you look through me like I was nothing?”
His jaw hardened. “I know. And I’ll never forgive myself for it.”
“I don’t need your self-punishment.” I cupped his face. “I need you. Here. Now.”
He stroked my bottom lip with his thumb. “You’re still hurt.”
“Then be gentle,” I said. “But be something.”
His eyes darkened. He crossed to the door and closed it. When he turned back, the caretaker had receded.
