“Oh, that’s good to know.I don’t know that I’d have the right temperament to become a werewolf.”
“And what kind of temperament does that require?”I asked as I entered the attached bathing chamber to grab a cloth, which I soaked with water.
“One much more savage than mine, I would imagine.I can’t even bear to kill a spider.”
I snorted.“Guess having a sudden bloodlust and hunger for bunnies might be disconcerting.”
“I prefer my rabbit cooked, preferably in a stew,” was her prim reply as I returned with the wet cloth.
“Unbutton your shirt,” I ordered.
“I can clean the wound myself.”She held out her hand.
“I’m sure you can, but I need to see if it requires stitches or not, and knowing you, you’d likely lie.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because you won’t want to spend hours in an emergency room waiting your turn.”
“Fair point.”Her cheeks turned pink, and her fingers trembled as she undid the first button.
“You needn’t fear me.”I spoke softly, given her obvious trepidation.
“I’m not.”Her gaze flew to meet mine.“It’s just…” Her blush deepened.“I’m not in the habit of undressing in front of people I barely know.”
“You’ve seen me naked,” I pointed out.
“Quite different, and you’ve had much longer than me to get used to being nude around people.Not to mention, you’re quite fit and have nothing to be ashamed of.”
My brow arched.“Neither do you.”
Her gaze dropped as she worked another button.“I’m a little plumper than I should be.”
“According to who?”She didn’t reply, but I found myself saying, “Let me guess, a past paramour.”
She gnawed her lower lip before nodding.“What’s odd about his complaint, though, was I didn’t gain weight during our relationship, and yet he used that as an excuse to avoid intimacy with me.”
“Then he was a fool,” my harsh reply, which I tempered with, “I think your curves are beautiful.”
“Oh.”All she said, yet I heard the pleasure in that single syllable.But more devastating?I could smell it, too.Apparently, a compliment was all it took to arouse my professor.
A third and fourth button loose allowed the shirt to part enough for me to see the gash.Or more correctly, shallow cut.It wouldn’t require stitches.I dabbed gently at it, wiping the blood.
She held her breath, and I murmured, “Sorry if it hurts.I just want to ensure it’s clean before we bandage to avoid an infection.”
“It’s fine,” her whispered reply, which came with an even stronger whiff of honey.
Her honey.It wasn’t pain making her suffer, and I was an idiot.How could I not notice how her nipples poked the fabric of her gaping shirt?How the flush in her cheeks spread to her entire body?Her pulse raced.Her flesh heated.
My hand paused, and I found myself using my free hand to lift her chin.
She stared at me.
I stared right back.
Mesmerized.
Head lowering.
