Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
He covered my hand in his, squeezing my trembling fingers. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” I exhaled, trying to calm down, but his touch didn’t soothe me.
It revved me up. Those big hands swallowing mine, the rough callouses brushing over my skin. The heat of his palms.
I looked up. Met his dark gaze. Got caught in it. He smelled good. Like soap and pine and rugged man.
It was crazy, but the jitters were morphing into something else.
Attraction. Turn-on. I squirmed on the coffee table when he didn’t let go.
“Here, let me.” Roy’s voice was deep and resonant. A perfect gruff, cowboy vibe.
He had to let go of me to undo the cuffs, then the buttons down the front of the flannel.
It was like my own personal strip tease. I licked my lips watching the show. Inch by inch, a broad chest appeared. Flat nipples peeked out from a smattering of dark hair.
I eased his shirt off, my fingertips brushing against solid muscle. He was hot to the touch everywhere.
Damn. Roy was built. Total Magic Mike material–with a wide-shouldered, sculpted chest and washboard abs. Those soft curls that I wanted to rake my nails through.
Heat pooled between my legs. My nipples tightened in my bra. When his gaze lowered to the front of my shirt, I knew without looking down that he could see their outline.
He discarded his shirt on the floor. The right sleeve was crimson with blood.
I took hold of his arm to examine the wound. Touching him felt easy. Natural.
It must have been the sense of shared trauma from what just happened that made this stranger feel so familiar.
So safe.
So attractive.
He’d saved me. Not once, but twice. I felt protected. Like nothing could hurt me with him around. That in itself wasn’t something I’d felt before with a man, but it was heady. It was really, really attractive. A knight and a fair maiden. A Highlander rescuing a fair lass from an English soldier.
Okay, I read too many romances, but still. This guy, Roy, was like my own lumberjack to the rescue. And I didn’t seem to mind being the damsel in distress, minus the bad guys and getting shot at part.
I sucked in my breath when I saw the wound. “Oh, God. I can see the hole. It’s… do you think the bullet’s still in there? Don’t you think we should call an ambulance or something?”
Roy peered at the back of his arm as best he could. It had to hurt like hell, but he didn’t show any signs of pain. Maybe he still had adrenaline flowing and would probably feel it later. “Arm wounds bleed a lot. I promise I’m okay.”
“I thought that was head wounds,” I countered, holding a washcloth against the wound to stop the bleeding although it had already stopped. Maybe he was right.
“It’s both,” he countered. “I’m fine–trust me. I’m a retired Marine. I know my wounds, and this one is nothing. It was a through-and-through.”
Of course, he was a Marine. That was why he didn’t side-step helping a woman in danger. He was willing to put others’ lives before his. Just like he had for me. I wasn’t sure if I should hug him, cry, or jump him.
“I’ll get a wet washcloth to clean you up. Maybe there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom.”
The penthouse suite was as big as the one Mr. Burke had been in. Two bedrooms, two mega-bathrooms plus a powder room. Living room, dining area. Full kitchen. I prayed that in the midst of all this luxury there was a first aid kit.
In the bathroom, I searched through the vanity’s drawers. Extra toilet paper, toothbrushes in their packages. Yes! I found one! It wasn’t much, but it had some gauze. Tape. Bandaids. Antibacterial ointment.
I wet a washcloth in the sink then took it and the first aid kit back to Roy. I sat once again in front of him, my knees brushing the couch between his spread legs.
I breathed him in. His closeness wasn’t scary. It was… exhilarating.
“Here, let me,” I whispered.
I gently wiped the drying blood from his arm. My fingers still shook. My breath still came in short, shallow pants.
Roy shifted forward on the couch, bringing his feet closer together to cage me between his thighs. I glanced up. His gaze wasn’t on the wound, it was on my face. He looked… hungry.
Fascinated.
That was crazy. No one found me fascinating. I was the most boring woman on the planet. Working the most boring job. I wore boring clothes.
My body heated under his attention. Moisture leaked between my legs.
This shouldn’t be hot. He got shot, for God’s sake. And it was my fault.
Why was this so hot? Why was I so hot? I wanted to fan myself.
“You’re a good nurse,” he murmured. His voice was a low, approving purr. The kind that made you want to earn a “good girl” from him.