Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to carry me,” she protested, even while looping her arms around his neck. As she did, the familiar woodsy scent with hints of citrus hit her. It took every ounce of willpower not to rest her head on his shoulder and bury her nose in his neck, where she’d find the spot that she absolutely adored. A berth that moored the line of her nose perfectly, beneath which was a warm, welcoming cove where she could feel the ebb and flow of his blood throb strongly against her lips. She had loved to lick and suck and occasionally bite that spot.
It had been so long since she’d done that.
She registered with a pang of renewed pain and regret that she would never be allowed access to that spot again and jerked her head back from the temptation just inches away from her mouth.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Not really.” Her voice was small, high-pitched, and nasally with tears.
God, she needed to get her shit together. Because falling apart wasn’t going to change anything and only result in humiliation for her.
“Pain really bad?”
“Yes,” she whispered, happy to have an excuse for the tears glowing in her eyes. He needn’t ever know that she was referencing a different pain entirely.
“Then let’s get you inside and get some ibuprofen in you.”
“Thank you.” This time she did drop her head on his shoulder, allowing herself a small, selfish moment of comfort. Just for an instant.
“Gonna to put you down for a sec, okay? Need to unlock.”
“I can walk from here,” she said.
“Sure,” he agreed, before unlocking the door and then picking her right back up.
Instead of wasting her energy and breath on protestations that would fall on deaf ears, Kenny’s eyes tracked around the interior of the small cottage in lively curiosity.
“This is really…” She pursed her lips, thinking for a moment, before settling on, “Cute.”
“Yeah, I think the local vet owns it. Was the only place available, because it’s usually reserved for long-term rentals. But Tina and the vet are friends.” He shrugged. “Tina and Harris did offer me one of their spare rooms, but since I’ll be here for a while, I figured it was better to rent a place for a few months.”
“Exactly how long do you plan on staying?”
He didn’t reply as he unceremoniously plonked her down onto the sofa.
“Oh my God, Smith! No. I’m filthy.” She started to get up, but he planted a firm hand on her shoulder.
“Stay right there,” he commanded.
“At least get a towel for the sofa.” She stared at the impractical blush-colored upholstery. Who had a pale pink sofa? In a property they rented out to random strangers?
Kenny cringed, knowing she was smearing a combination of sweat and red dust onto the pretty seat.
“Don’t move, I’ll get a towel if it bugs you that much.”
He retreated and, unable to comply with the dictatorial demand that she remain seated when she knew she was ruining the sofa, Kenny leaped up, careful not to place weight on her injured foot.
Smith reappeared seconds later. His lips thinned when he saw her, but he thankfully made no comment as he draped the bath sheet over the seat and the back of the couch.
Kenny sat before he could tell her to. He sat down next to her and made a twirling gesture with his index finger.
His meaning was unmistakable and knowing that it would be best to just comply at this point, Kenny swung sideways.
He wrapped a capable hand around her right ankle and guided it into his lap.
“Your—”
“Don’t say it,” he cautioned. “My jeans can withstand a little bit of dirt.”
She clamped her lips around the protest and dropped her chin as her gaze fell on the large hand still curled around her ankle. His touch burned into her skin and Kenny resisted the urge to squirm.
When he removed his hand she nearly cried out in protest at the loss of his touch. But he didn’t go too far. Instead he efficiently unlaced her sneaker and then closed a palm around her bare calf to support her leg while he used his other hand to tug the shoe from her foot with the utmost care.
She was unable to prevent the moan from slipping out when he freed her foot. The shoe had been acting as support by keeping the digit in place. Without it, she could feel just how badly her toe was injured.
She screwed her eyes shut, against both the pain and the impulse to look. For a doctor, she was pretty squeamish about personal injuries.
“How does it look?”
“Not great.” His succinct reply didn’t tell her much and she knew she was going to have to take a peek to gauge the extent of the damage herself.
She sat for a moment, eyes still closed, belatedly realizing that Smith had one hand gently cupped around her bare heel and the other rested just above her knee. The fingers of the latter hand were gently—almost absently—stroking over her goose-fleshed skin.