Page 9 of The Ruthless and the Strong

She pulled back a little in surprise, but thankfully, she didn’t tell me to back off. “Just my ankle,” she said quietly.

Gently, I moved her hands away so I could see. Her ankle looked swollen around her running shoe.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” I said, moving my finger softly around the swollen flesh. She sucked in a sharp breath and I eyed her. “Hurts?”

She shook her head.

“How did you hurt it?”

She looked away from me then, her pale freckled cheeks turning a lovely shade of red. My hands twitched with the need to touch her there. To see if it would be as warm as it looked. She let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “It’s stupid. I tripped on my own feet.”

I frowned at that. “It’s not stupid. That can happen to anyone.”

“I’m pretty sure that has never happened to you.”

I grinned at her. “Trained athlete, remember?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I remember.”

I looked back down at her ankle. My hockey days were far behind me. Some days, it felt like being on the rink had been nothing more than a fuzzy dream.

“Can you walk on it?”

“I can try.” She made a move to get up, and I helped her. I ignored the way she tensed up in my arms. I wondered if we had gotten so far from each other, she now found my touch repulsive. As soon as I was sure she was standing on her own, I removed my hand.

She shot me a look but didn’t say anything. I wondered if I imagined the hurt expression on her face.

When she tried to put some weight on the injured foot, she winced before losing her balance. I quickly wrapped my arms around her, and without saying anything, lifted her up in my arms. “Max! What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m carrying you home.”

“What? That’s crazy. We’re ways away from home.”

“What, don’t you think I can do it?” I shot her a flirtatious smile. I was sure she didn’t mean to when she eyed my muscles, her green eyes turning dark. So it wasn’t repulsion that I saw on her face before.

I didn’t know. As much as I hated to admit it, Lizzie wasn’t the same girl I knew six years ago. She’d changed. Hell, I had changed. But right now, with her in my arms, she didn’t feel so different. She still smelled the same, still felt the same.

She looked away from me and stared straight ahead, that lovely blush on her cheeks back. The urge to move my lips over her warm cheeks was strong, but I resisted.

Just.

“That’s not the point,” she said quietly.

I tightened my arms around her. “The point is you can barely walk on your ankle. The point is you might not have broken it or sprained it, but you have injured it, so just let me carry you home, okay?”

She glared at me, her fiery Irish temper making itself known. “Fine, but if you hurt your back trying to prove a point, don’t go complaining to me about it.”

My smile widened at that. “You think I would hurt my back carrying you? Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.”

She scoffed at that. “I don’t know how you’re seeing that, but this is the body that gave birth to an eight-pound baby. Pregnancy changes your body.”

I took her in, and I let her see the desire in my eyes as I did it. It was true that pregnancy had changed her body, but I couldn’t find a single flaw there that Lizzie should be insecure about. She was dressed in a fitted black shirt and a pair of what I was sure were called yoga pants, and they highlighted her shape perfectly.

She was perfect.

Lizzie looked down, avoiding my eyes, but not before I caught the pleasure in them. My heart strummed with satisfaction. I would let her know every day how desirable I found her, how much she got to me with just a single look, if that was what she needed.

I didn’t know about her marriage, but for it to end in divorce, I doubt her ex-husband knew how to treat her right, how to cherish her.

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