“I’m not pretending, you dick head!” she snaps. “We need to look at that cut. Now.”
“Did you just call me a dick head?”
“Yes. And you're proving me right by standing there and losing more blood, instead of attending to your wound."
I stare at her for a second, then the corner of my mouth twitches. “Well… there’s no one else around. So unless you’re willing to play nurse, you should probably leave me alone.”
She doesn’t even hesitate. “Get your grumpy ass upstairs.”
A low chuckle escapes me. “Sassy nurse. I like it.”
I let her lead me upstairs, her small hand wrapped around my wrist like she’s afraid I’ll collapse if she lets go.
The concern on her face does something dangerous to me. No one has ever looked at me like that.
Once we’re in my bedroom, she points to one of the chairs. “Sit.”
I obey. “First aid kit is in the left bottom shelf in the bathroom.
I watch as she hurries into the bathroom and comes back with the first aid kit. I unbutton my shirt and peel it off, revealing the long gash across my ribs. It’s not deep, but it’s still bleeding sluggishly.
She kneels between my legs and starts cleaning the wound with careful, steady hands. I expected her to be squeamish around blood, but she’s focused, almost clinical.
“Have you done this before?” I ask, genuinely curious.
She gives me a dry look, dabbing antiseptic on the cut. “I have two brothers. What do you think?”
This has me shutting up and watching her work. Every time the antiseptic touches the wound, she winces and murmurs, “Sorry… does it hurt? I can get you some alcohol or something to numb it?—”
“Go on,” I say, voice low. “It’s fine.”
The truth is, the sting barely registers. Watching her take care of me, is a better painkiller than anything she could give me. No one has ever done this for me without being paid. No one has ever looked after me simply because they wanted to.
She doesn’t have to be here. She hates me. She’s made that very clear. Yet here she is, kneeling between my legs, tending to my wound.
The position isn’t lost on me. Her face is so close to my lap, her breath warm against my skin. My cock twitches at the sight, and I have to force myself to stay still.
She finishes cleaning it, then reaches for the waterproof bandage I pointed out earlier. Her fingers brush my skin as she smooths it over the cut, and I feel that familiar electric spark shoot through me.
“All done,” she says softly.
“Thanks.”
She looks up at me, those blue-gray eyes searching my face. “Do you want to tell me why you came home with a cut on your ribs?”
I shake my head slowly, never breaking eye contact.
We fall into silence, staring at each other. The air grows thick, heavy with everything we’re not saying.
Neither of us looks away. It becomes a quiet battle of wills, and I win. She’s the first to break, letting out a shaky breath, her lips slightly parted.
“What’s going on in your head?” she whispers. “What are you thinking right now?”
My eyes drop to her mouth, then back up. I smirk down at her, still kneeling between my legs, her hands resting lightly on my thighs.
“Why would I want to tell you what I’m thinking?” I murmur.
She tilts her head. “A penny for your thoughts?”
