Page 48 of Irresistibly Risky

“Please?” I ask, throwing his favorite word back at him.

He immediately hunches his shoulders like a bear and allows me to lead him across the apartment—which is ridiculously enormous—over to his side where his bedroom is located. I take him into his room, knowing full well I should retreat now, but also knowing I won’t. He had surgery this morning. Is down a limb. And is in visible pain.

We bypass his bedroom and go into his bathroom. “Face me.” He does instantly, and I work his shirt over his head and down his shoulder as gently as I can. His shoulder looks okay. Not amazing. But okay. Beneath the Dermabond are dissolvable sutures, and right now, I don’t see any issues that require immediate attention.

“Do you need help brushing your teeth?”

He scowls at me. “No, Mommy. I can handle it.”

“I already told you, I’m never going to call you Daddy.”

Finally a grin, but it doesn’t last, nor does it meet his eyes.

“Pain scale?”

“Five.” Which is likely an eight for a normal human.

“Medication?”

“Unwanted.”

“Not even for me?”

“You don’t strike me as the pill-popping type.”

I raise an eyebrow.

He curses, his chin pointing toward the ceiling. “Fine,” he snarls. “A half.”

“Brush up, and I’ll be right back.”

I pad out into his kitchen, find the prescription bottle, and break one of the tablets in half. I glance down at myself and quickly peel off my bra. I’m going to share a bed with Asher Reyes tonight because something inside me doesn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone. I drape the bra over the back of the barstool, and then after I fill a glass with ice water, I bring it back to him.

His eyes scour me, rough like unpolished gems, but when they land on my pert nipples, realizing I’m no longer wearing a bra, his entire disposition alters.

“Take this for me,” I ask, holding out the tablet and glass of water for him.

He hesitates, almost glaring at me now. “You know how badly I want you, and you’re using that to your advantage.”

I continue to stare up into his eyes. Eyes that manage to make my insides squirm, even when he’s hurting and angry. “Possibly. But right now, I don’t care.”

He snatches the half tablet from my hand, pops it in his mouth, and then takes the glass of water and swallows down the pill with a giant sip.

“Done.”

“Good.” I grin. “You’re a grumpy patient.”

He sighs. “I don’t… I don’t feel well.”

I cup his face and drag his forehead to my lips. “No fever. But I’m a little worried. Maybe you simply did more today than you should have, or maybe something else is going on. I’m not sure yet, but I’m going to stay with you tonight, and tomorrow if you’re still looking like this in the morning, I’m going to write you a prescription for an antibiotic.”

“I’ll risk an infection if it gets your lips on me again.”

“Don’t tease, Asher. This isn’t a joke.”

His gray eyes hold mine. “Who said I was kidding.” A silent exhale. His shirtless body practically against mine. His fingers run along my cheek and through my hair, making me shudder ever so slightly. “Are you sleeping with me tonight, Doctor?”

Doesn’t he know I’m risking it all right now? How questions like that only make this worse for me?

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