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“How are you healing?” Grabbing our empty cups, I moved to the sink to rinse them out.
“Fine.” His answer was quick. But his tone increased in volume, telling me he might be lying.
Worry shot down my spine. I should’ve forced his brothers to take him to the hospital. If something happened to him because of what I’d done, I wouldn’t forgive myself.
“Can I see?” I kept my voice calm, not wanting to give away my anxiety.
When he didn’t answer, I turned to look at him. He stared at me. His lips pressed together, making them flat. It was like he was hiding. Trying to come up with a reason he couldn’t show me the wound.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. Then he blinked, and his expression softened. My heart tumbled as he reached down and pulled up the hem of his shirt. My lungs expanded with air, but stilled as I stared at his hard stomach.
Warmth slid through me as I noticed the slight V that disappeared down his waistband. And the fine dusting of hair. He was fit without looking like his life was the gym and eating clean.
I was so distracted by how sexy he was and the sensations it was creating in me that it took a moment to notice his injury. And the stitches still in his skin.
“Nathan! You were supposed to take the stitches out days ago.” He shrugged a shoulder. His mouth twitching like he thought I was funny. I gestured towards him in exasperation. “Get your shirt off.”
“Why?” I was already turning my back to grab my first aid kit from the bathroom.
“I’ll remove them.” The plastic box clicked on the counter as I set it down. “Now, before your skin grows around them and they never come out.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” But I barely heard his words, too busy watching as he grabbed a fistful of his shirt at the nape of his neck and pulled the whole thing off in one sexy swoop. The muscles in his arms rippled and his abs contracted. My eyes didn’t know where to look.
But once again, they fell to his injury and my years of training took over. “You will when you have a terrible scar.”
“Something to remember you by.” Fire shot through me. My thighs clenched together to stop the heat, but it was impossible. Not when his voice sounded all deep and sultry.
I ignored the throb in my pussy and the tightening of my nipples. Thank God I was still wearing the oversize sweatshirt so he couldn’t see. “Sit on the counter and rest back on your elbows.”
Nathan obeyed, and the fire spread across my skin. Tingles followed as I looked at him, shirtless, on my counter. My mind played through all the things I could do to him. All the ways I could make him groan my name.
People called me sassy and demanding, and those qualities didn’t stop in the bedroom. Especially because I knew it was the only way to have what I wanted. But not every guy was good at taking orders.
They saw it as competition, like we weren’t aiming for the same goal. But I suppose sometimes we weren’t. I wanted us both to get off. They only cared about themselves.
Those were the ones with fragile egos. And no one should waste their time with them. It was challenging to find a guy who would relinquish complete control like I preferred.
The way Nathan jumped at my command made me curious. Would he be submissive in bed? Would he enjoy giving up control to me? Not that I had any right to wonder.
The restless energy in my body shifted, and I resisted the urge to find out. To step between his thighs and see how far I could take things.
Instead, I pulled the sterilizing wipes and scissors from the box. I moved to stand next to him so it would be easier to reach his injury. He was so much taller than me that if he was sitting in a chair, I’d have to be on my knees to do this.
Not that I minded. Some people didn’t like it. Thought it gave men too much power when you were on your knees for them. But it was the opposite. I felt sexy as fuck, especially when they begged to come.
Heat scorched my chest, and my nipples tightened further. Jesus, I needed to get laid.
Pushing aside my racing thoughts, I pulled forward the calm that came with work. I told myself Nathan was another patient. I’d never been attracted to a patient.
My fingers pressed into his skin, making it taut as I snipped into the first stitch. The flesh was red and scar tissue was already building, but it was too late to fix it. Tingles raced up my hand as I tried to focus on my task. But I could sense his gaze on me. Feel the warmth of his body.
“Why did you quit?” A sigh escaped my chest, but I couldn’t avoid telling him. Not when it could be the reason I needed his protection.
“I had a frequent flier patient in the emergency room. A young woman in her early twenties. A girl really.” My voice was neutral, not giving away the trembling of my insides. “It was the same old story. She fell down the stairs. Hit her face on a doorknob. Caught her hand between furniture.”
“She was being abused?” His tone was practically a growl. My eyes snapped to his. His jaw was tight and his gaze cloudy. It was the most emotion I’d seen from him.
“By her husband.” His fingers curled on the counter, but I focused on the last few stitches. “I tried to convince her to leave. Gave her resources. Even drove her to the domestic violence shelter. It worked for a while.”
