Page 46 of Trucker
He didn’t make it easy on me, especially after seeing him shirtless, in the rain, his eyes closed with his face upturned to the raindrops. It was a sight that held me paralyzed, just staring.
How could a man be so beautiful?
Watching the clear water slid over toned muscles did something to me.
As I watched him, I could still feel his fingers in my hair, against my nipples, rough against my thighs.
Then his mouth. I could still taste his kiss—and forget the shrimp scampi.
The truth was, Trucker was the most delicious thing I ever had in my mouth.
Damn, what’s wrong with me?
I took a break to touch myself in the shower—I climaxed so hard, I slipped and fell to one knee. In pain, I managed to turn off the water and wrapped a towel round me enough to waddle into my bedroom.
For a few minutes, I sat, naked on the side of my bed massaging my knee and grunting because of the pain. Deep down, I knew I couldn’t stay like that forever, I couldn’t keep hiding.
Gingerly, I managed to get dressed.
I knew I would have to spend the day with it elevated and though it took me some doing and time, I managed to carry my laptop into my bedroom, along with some snacks and relegated myself to bed.
That was where I was when Trucker called my name from somewhere in the house. Gritting my teeth, I climbed out of bed and hopped on one leg to the railing.
“Up here.” I called from the balcony. “How was your day?”
He made an appearance below me, looking up with the most beautiful brown eyes I’d ever seen.
“Good—you okay?”
“Define okay.”
Trucker arched a brow before jogging up the stairs. When he was standing beside me, I sighed and gave in.
“I fell in the shower.” I explained. “It’s no big deal. I’m sure by tomorrow the swelling will be gone.”
“Swelling?” Trucker was already checking my body. “Where? Let me see.”
I could fight him but why bother?
I’d just let him win anyway.
Men like him were all the same and wouldn’t stop until they saw what the problem was and fixed it. I rolled my eyes dramatically while pointing to my knee that was the size of a small mango.
Trucker eyed the wound and made a face.
“This is what you’re not worried about?” He asked.
Before I could find an answer, Trucker scooped me into his arms and carried me back to bed. It didn’t even occur to me to protest. Instead, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and allowed him to take care of me.
Once he had me on the bed, he inspected my knee again and frowned.
“What were you doing in the shower, anyway?” He wanted to know. “You really need to be careful.”
“I don’t need a lecture.” I pouted. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. In a way, it kind of is your fault. If it hadn’t been for you kissing me like you did?—”
“Go on.”
“No.” I turned my face away. “It’s like I can’t stop myself from saying these things around you. And you don’t have to take care of me. I know your day couldn’t have been easy.”
