Only to find the Kevlar underneath.
My knuckles rap against it with a familiar dull sound and I freeze, looking up at him.
So close. I can practically feel those dangerously long eyelashes fluttering against my cheek.
He grins at me. “Were you worried about me?”
I smack his chest, regretting it instantly, before launching myself backward. “You bastard.”
“I’m sorry. Did you want to tend to my wounds and make me feel better?”
I glare at him as he removes the rest of his jacket. Sure enough, the shoulder padding of his tactical vest is torn up, no doubt covering the bullet lodged there.
But alarmingly, he doesn’t stop there. Teo simply holds my glare as he strips off the vest. My gaze snags on the strip of skin that’s revealed when his T-shirt rides up. Silky, smooth, and utterly delectable.
“See something you like?”
My eyes snap to his.
He has paused, hands gripping the bottom of his shirt as if to pull it over his head.
“I…er…” I swallow hard.
“Ice pack is in the freezer.” He nods toward the kitchen door.
I don’t need to be told twice. I scramble backward into the room, desperately trying to get a hold of myself.
The whole point of coming out tonight was to test a theory, yet all I’ve managed to do so far is let myself get kidnapped again and drool over the man who’s supposed to be my mortal enemy.
He still came after you, didn’t he?
The thought makes me pause as my hand rests on the refrigerator door. That has to mean something, right? He took on twelve men just to keep me safe.
I pull open the door and snag the ice pack. It’s almost comical how many medical supplies he has in his fridge, but I don’t dwell on it. Leon’s apartment is the exact same.
By the time I return to the hallway, Teo is no longer there. The door to the living room he “trapped” me in earlier is open, though, so I make my way over.
“You know you could probably start your own pharmacy with a fridge like that…”
My voice trails off at the sight of him draped over the couch. He is entirely shirtless, revealing an expanse of tight muscles as he clutches an entire bottle of whiskey in his good hand.
His eyes are closed, his expression pained. It doesn’t take long for me to figure out why.
His entire shoulder has turned an agitated shade of red. The closer to the epicenter of the gunshot, the darker it is. I’d wager the whole thing will be black by morning.
I step forward with the ice pack and kneel before the couch. Wrapping a towel around his arm, I reach to press the frozen surface to his skin.
He hisses on impact, eyes flashing wide in alarm.
“Don’t be such a baby,” I chastise him.
“Shall I shoot you next? See how well you fair?”
I press the ice pack down harder.
He hisses again, and I almost laugh at the way his nose scrunches up in discomfort. It’s cute.
How can a man who electrocuted half a dozen men be this cute?
