Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
I frown. “Why?”
“Because that brings me to the second reason you’re not allowed to go home yet.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m gonna need you to dig the glass out of my back before I can go to bed.”
Chapter Seven
Killian
Her brown eyes widen, every bit of her skepticism melting away to make room for concern.
As soon as she told me the cat story, I kind of figured it would go that way.
She’s a nurturer.
“There’s glass in your back?”
I nod. “Someone smashed me into something. Not sure what. I don’t exactly have a great view back there, so… I’m gonna need your help.”
Despite the fact that she has been afraid of me on at least three occasions tonight, she immediately grabs my shoulder to turn me around so she can inspect the damage.
Even through the thick fabric of my black hoodie, her touch makes my skin feel hot. The heat spreads as I turn around, but she maintains her grip on me. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
I shoot the idea right down. “I’m not going to the hospital. I’ve got first aid stuff here, I just can’t take care of it myself because I can’t reach. I need you to look at it and patch me up.”
Her hand drops from my shoulder, and I notice her already pale skin go a shade lighter. “I… I’m not qualified to do that.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t sue you if you get it wrong,” I say lightly. “Do you think you can peel the shirt off without cutting me more, or do you want to cut it off?”
Her voice shakes a little. “There’s glass coming out of your back. I don’t know how you’re not in pain.”
“Who said I’m not?”
“You’ve been walking around like you were fine. Wasting time messing with me. You should have told me you were hurt instead of being such a jerk about everything.”
I crack a smile. “Come on, let’s grab the scissors.”
“I need more than scissors. We shouldn’t do this standing. Is there somewhere you can lie down comfortably?”
“Sure. My bed.”
She hesitates, but I guess she figures I’m not likely to pounce on her with shards of glass sticking out of my flesh. “All right. I’ll put down some towels so we don’t risk any blood or glass getting on the sheets. I’ll need a bowl or something to put the glass in once I extract it.” She turns toward the hall, then points. “Bed and bathroom this way?”
“Yep.”
While she goes to get that set up, I grab a dish out of the cabinet and collect the rest of the supplies she’ll need. When I reach the bedroom, the light is on, and I see she’s stripped the blankets off my bed and left them in a heap at the foot of it. Towels have been spread out across the middle, and she’s bending over the bed to stretch the last one across.
She took off the robe part of her costume, and what she’s left wearing resembles bridal lingerie more than clothing. Interest stirs seeing her bent over my bed like that. I guess my gaze betrays my thoughts, because when she turns to face me, she gets that look again, the one she got right before she took off into the woods like a pretty gazelle that had just been spotted by a hungry lion.
But I’m hurt, so she doesn’t run this time.
She swallows and gestures to the bed. “You can lie on your stomach.”
I look down at her ankles. “Why are you still wearing those?”
Her gaze drops to the ropes. “They’re too tight. I was flustered and couldn’t get the knots out. I’ll cut them off later, it doesn’t matter.”
I shake my head. “Sit down.”
Her eyes widen as I walk closer to her. She looks around as if searching for another spot, but I give her a little shove and she drops back on my mattress. She scowls at me, and I smirk up at her as I kneel on the ground and grab one of her legs. “Remember, I’m wounded, so you can’t fight me about things.”
“Oh, yeah. Mr. ‘I’m not gonna go to the hospital and let a professional treat me’ wants to milk it now.”
“I’m nothing if not opportunistic,” I warn her.
She’s uneasy as my hands deftly trail down her leg, but she tries to echo my words back to me. “Most people wouldn’t admit a thing like that.”
My lips quirk as I prop her foot on my thigh. “I’m not embarrassed about it.”
Her words dry up and her tongue darts out to wet her lips as I work my fingers beneath the rope. It’s so tight, her soft skin is indented.
Anger swells up at the idea of those slimy assholes putting their hands on her and tying her down the way they did.
I want to ask why the hell she followed that dork to his basement, why she was there to see him to begin with.