Copyright © KAILY HART, 2015
She’d followed him right into the tiny bathroom. He looked kinda cute with the frown and slightly harassed look, and she’d bet “cute” wasn’t normally a word anyone associated with him.
“If you’re not going to go to the hospital, then I at least want to see your injury.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It bled right through your jeans.”
“It’s a fucking scratch.”
“Then you won’t mind if I take a look.” She put her hand on her hip and glanced at his crotch. “You shy?”
“Hardly,” he snorted.
“Then let’s see it.”
His right eyebrow lifted.
She tried to deflect the color she felt rising into her cheeks, but knew the effort was pointless. What was it about this guy that had her normally “unaffected by a hot guy” self all affected and bothered anyway?
He let out a quick breath, muttered something too low for her to catch and reached for his fly. Her mouth went dry, chalk dry. He jerked at the button and yanked his jeans down his thighs in a quick, rough move.
She’d heard the expression “left little to the imagination”. Had heard it and thought nothing of it. Now all she could do was stare at the dark briefs that seemed to cup and emphasize his maleness rather than conceal anything. Of course, that might have had a lot to do with the fact that he was aroused. Very aroused.
In the quiet of the room she was sure he could hear her heart beating. And her swallowing. It was almost deafening to her.
“Been like this since I saw your vertical sex act,” he murmured.
Lexi dragged her eyes up to his. “My…what?”
“I’m guessing you call it dancing.”
She frowned. He’d been watching her dance? God, why? She was pretty much oblivious when she was dancing and certainly didn’t give a thought to who might be watching.
“Ignore it. I plan to,” he added.
Her eyes widened. “You can do that?”
She’d heard about guys who got off on the adrenaline rush of doing something daring, dangerous and the fight probably qualified as that.
He gave her an unfathomable look. “Look, you wanna see it or not? Then take a good look.”
He sat on the edge of the low tub and spread his legs. Wide.
Holy mother of God.
“The scratch, Alexis, the scratch.”
Color filled her face this time in a fast, hot wash. Damn, but she didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about. The scratch was in the general vicinity of his… Wasn’t it?
Yeah, she wasn’t fooling him. Or herself. Her eyes had been glued to the bulge between his legs and she’d been looking her fill. It was that simple. His thin underwear barely covered what it was supposed to with his legs spread. With the fabric stretched taut she could see every bulge and curve and he was just… He just looked…male. God, it was the only word that came to mind to describe him. He was every inch a man and oh, baby, he had himself plenty of inches.
His thighs were thick with muscle and covered in a sprinkling of dark hair she had an insane urge to trail her fingers through. High up toward the leg of his underwear, right between his legs, his skin was hairless and looked smooth, soft even. It was a hint of vulnerability on a guy who was ripped with muscle, corded with toughness.
She swallowed as she forced her gaze down along the inside of his thigh. He might keep calling it a scratch but the cut was an angry-looking line that had to be three inches long and still seeping blood.
“Ah, you should probably put something on that.”
He jerked his head toward the sink. “Have at it then.”
“Me?”
Her gaze shot to his and she just knew he’d been watching her the whole time. Not just looking at her, but watching her—and cataloguing every nuance of her reaction. His dark gaze was hot and burned into hers, searing her in a wave of heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.
She’d never been anyone’s nurse and was pretty sure she didn’t exactly have a gentle touch. Or the bedside manner to go along with it. She picked up the small medical kit he’d motioned to and frowned. How many guys carried their own first-aid kit around with them, especially one so well stocked and clearly well used? She saw the challenge in his eyes that said she wouldn’t do it. Yeah, she knew how that went. She unzipped the bag and smiled. If he wanted to be her guinea pig, who was she to argue?
She opened a square of gauze and soaked the soft pad in alcohol. Or at least what she assumed was alcohol. This stuff probably stung, right?
There really was no other way to get close enough, so she knelt between his legs, and was all at once surrounded by him. She could feel the heat coming off his big, powerful body, could smell the faint hint of a woodsy aftershave and it didn’t help the steadiness of her hands that he continued to stare at her with those dark, decadent eyes of his.
“So…” She cleared her throat as she leaned in, hoping like hell she could keep her hands steady. “You got a girl in every port then?”
