Page 56 of Five
“I see,” he repeats the words I told him a few minutes ago, plastering a knowing smug smile on his face. “Let’s speed things up a bit, shall we?”
“Wha—?” Then his lips are on mine. Well, not completely on mine, more on the corner of my mouth. The people surrounding us, though, must think he’s laying one on me—a long one.
A crushing sound followed by a scream spears the air, breaking Uri’s silly act and making me look to my right. My gaze falls halfway across the room on Gabe. His eyes, laser-focused on me, feel like a physical touch.
A rough, bruising touch.
My heart pounds like rain on the ground, and I stop for a moment, frozen. My mouth opens as I notice his bleeding hand and the broken glass at his feet. Did he crush the glass he was holding with his fingers?
I move without thinking, crossing the room until I’m almost in front of him. But his firm “No” halts my steps. He swiftly curls his arm around my torso and lifts me in the air, spinning me around and slowly placing my feet back on the ground.
I’m still feeling the echo of his warm and hard chest against mine when he hisses on my lips, “Careful.” He brings my attention to the broken glass on the floor.
His attentiveness shocks me once again. I let go of his shoulders to grab his bleeding hand between mine and inspect the damage meticulously. The cuts are shallow, but there’re tiny, sharp pieces embedded in the skin.
I turn to a waitress. “Do you have a first aid kit? I also need a bowl of water, a pair of tweezers and a clean towel.”
She nods and jogs away, hopefully to get them.
Then I let go. “What the bloody fuck happened?” I barely contain my irritation.
“It’s nothing.” He tries to pull the hand away, vexing me even more, and I automatically tighten my grip on his wrist.
“Are you a doctor? No!” Worry and annoyance roll off me in waves. “I need to pull the glass out, or you’ll risk an infection.”
Gabe lifts his questioning brow at me while giving me a stern stare. Why the fuck is he cross with me? He’s the one bleeding all over the shiny marble floors. Hence my irritation toward him.
I yank him around the room until I force him to sit down at one of the round tables. The waitress comes back with an aid box and the rest of the things I asked for, followed by the hotel manager. He apologizes profusely about thefaultyglass—what the actual fuck?—and talks about calling an ambulance…the drama queen. I assure him I can take care of theaccidentsince I’ve patched up Ollie and Sully on more occasions than I remember and stare down challengingly at Gabe, waiting for him to agree. He gives the sweaty manager a short nod and holds out his hand.
That’s more like it.
Where the hell is Medusa?
I sit on the chair near him as the curious people gathered around us start to lose interest and move away. I clean the blood from his hand with water from the bowl, using the towel to dry it gently. Then after checking it over again, I start picking out the small shards from his palm. I halt and stare up at him with every piece I pull out, trying to discern if he’s feeling pain. I don’t see any change in his eyes, so I keep going until I take all of them out, but something feels strange. And it only intensifies the more I take care of him.
“Does it hurt?” I ask him, scanning his face.
He shakes his head slowly, those piercing, smoky eyes steady on my face. My dick certainly likes the attention, while I feel like my mouth is too dry to speak. I silently clean his wound once againand bandage it. Clearing my throat, I’m able to whisper, “Done.” The moment I drop his hand, he grabs my wrist and pulls me toward him.
“Why?” he asks, his darkened eyes darting between mine.
Why did I help him? Why am I suddenly drawn to him? Why can’t I stop thinking about his dick? About him?
“No ‘thank you’?” My words make his grip tighten around my wrist. “I’m just trying to pay you back for what you’ve done for me.” Which is not a lie, but not the entire truth either. Because when I saw him bleeding, I just followed an inexplicable need to be sure he was alright.
“That’s not—” Gabe is interrupted by a fretting Medusa.
“What happened?” She turns accusingly to me. “What did you do?”
I close my eyes and mentally enumerate the names of the Seven Dwarves, or try to, I always forget one. It’s a little trick that distracts me enough to calm me down. Barely works this time. Then I stand up, more than ready to go unless these floors want to be covered in more blood—Medusa’s blood—but Gabe’s firm grasp on my wrist keeps me there.
“Don’t do that again,” he rumbles deeply.Don’t help him? Why?“Unless it’s with me, Little Wasp.”
His eyes fall on my lips. Is he talking about Uri’s kiss? He lets my hand go. I’m confused and horny at hearing that damn nickname coming out of his mouth. His touch lingers like a brand as the organizer of the event reaches us and asks Gabe about the accident.
Feeling like I need a time-out from everything, I leave them talking and go toward the bathrooms.
I push the first door open. The room is wide, spotless with one big stall and many kinds of amenities covering the long black counter near the sinks.
