Page 11 of Rockstar Rescue
He follows, leaning on me, and I help him step in. "Okay. Sit."
"Yes, ma'am," he says, and I catch a little wink.
Oh, this guy is gorgeous.
Kneeling by the tub, I dip the washcloth into the hot water, then add the foaming antiseptic soap.
I start with his face, gently cleaning the cut just below his eye. It’s not deep. It will heal soon. It won’t mar his good looks.
Or maybeI wish it wouldto keep other women away.Damn it.If only he wasn't so attractive.
Calm down, Ginny, I tell myself. A gem like him is probably married.
"I wish my phone was working,” I say, lightly scrubbing the blood from his jaw. "So you could call your wife, let her know you're safe. She’s probably worried.”
"I don't have a wife," he says, his voice a low rumble.
"Girlfriend?"
He just shakes his head.
I stop myself from askinghow is that possible?
It would sound flirtatious, and I’m on "official firewomen business."
Instead, I make up for the personal question by scrubbing the road rash on his shoulder a little rougher.
"Ouch," he says.
"Sorry. Want to make sure it's clean so it won't get infected."
I move down his body to clean what could be scrapes on his upper thighs. My knuckles accidentally glide over his cock, now even harder.
It springs to life, jumping against my hand.
"Sorry," he says, sounding embarrassed.
"It's perfectly all right. I'm a professional medic," I say, with far more confidence than I feel.
At this moment, I’m more of a sex-starved woman hungering for this gorgeous stranger’s cock.
“Why don’t you join me in the tub. You have blood all over you," he says, his dark eyes trailing from my face to the front of my shirt. "My blood."
The area between my thighs moistens and tingles.
“You forget you’re the patient and I’m the nurse.”
“Role play is my favorite game,” he says, his dark eyes boring into mine.
Oh, man. I’m losing it fast. A wounded man wants to make dinner for me.
And give me a bath.
He’s so delicious looking sitting in that bath. Like a male model posing in a depression era tin tub with his wet hair slicked back from his gorgeous face. Droplets of water cling to his broad shoulders.
“Get in the tub, Ginny,” he says, looking at me with his dark eyes. “I’ll make room.”
“No,” I say, stepping back. “I need to make dinner.”
