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5
Colleen
My head spins, but I’m not sure if that’s from the fall, or from the feel of Carl’s strong arms carrying me into his home. His arm is like a steel band around my waist and I feel curiously safe in his embrace as he helps me limp across the threshold and into his house.
“Thanks,” I murmur, too embarrassed to even look at Carl. “I swear, I’m such a klutz.”
My gorgeous neighbor merely snorts and shakes his head, his expression dark.
“No, you’re not. That was a huge pothole that the city needs to fix, and I have a mind to call the mayor’s office myself tomorrow and demand that they get that done. You could have killed yourself.”
I blush hotly.
“No, I’m okay,” I murmur as he helps me sit gingerly on his living room couch. “Ooof, I guess I’m more banged up than I thought.”
His blue eyes sweep over me, assessing the damage, and fire sears my veins at his hot gaze.
“You stay here. I’m going to hit up the medicine cabinet and see what I have. Hold on just one second,” he growls. The big man disappears before I can say a word, and I use the opportunity to look around. The living room is large and comfortable, like I’d expect a man’s home to be. All the furniture is brown leather, giving the room a deep, earthy vibe, and the walls are painted a subtle cream. There’s a table that looks to be cherrywood if I had to guess, and it gleams beautifully in the low light. It serves as the perfect tie between the walls and the couches, melding the two together with harmony and grace.
Of course, there’s a massive TV hung on the wall across from where I sit, and it appears to be the ninety-six inch kind. Holy cow, you could go for a swim in a flatscreen this big! Suddenly, an image flashes in my mind of me and Carl, cuddled together on the couch while watching a movie. My feet would be in his lap as he caresses my calf, and my cheeks flush. Wow, that would be such a dream come true.
“Here, change into these so I can fix up your wounds,” a deep voice speaks. Carl’s back and he’s holding out a big t-shirt and loose shorts. I jerk out of my daydream, my cheeks going tomato red. Oh god, I hope he can’t read minds because it would be so embarrassing if he knew what I was just thinking! But then I shake my head with a small half-smile.
“No no, it’s okay. It’s not that bad, really. I should just head home but thank you for your help.”
The handsome man shakes his head, blue eyes fierce.
“Not a chance, sweetheart. You cut yourself up pretty good, and I want to take a look at those wounds, but your current clothes are covering some of your injuries. Plus, they’re pretty torn up in places,” he says. “Just change, and we’ll talk.”
Our eyes meet, and his are piercing blue as well as utterly commanding. I swallow.
“Okay,” I whisper. Then, I take the clothes and limp into the hallway bathroom before shutting the door. The light flickers on as I stare at the woman reflected in the mirror. OMG, I look awful. My curls are springing from my head in a corona, making me look like a crazy bag lady. Not only that, but there’s a cut on my cheek, and my face and arms literally look gray from all the dust. I’m definitely more hobo than seductress.
But with slow movements, I change out of my jeans and t-shirt, and into the big shorts and t-shirt. They’re so huge that the t-shirt practically goes to my knees, and the shorts won’t stay up because the waistband is far too big, no matter how I cinch the string. As a result, I make an executive decision. Forgetting the shorts, I exit the restroom dressed only in my bra and panties, with the big t-shirt covering my busty figure.
Carl’s eyes flare immediately when he sees me approach, but he doesn’t comment on the missing shorts. Instead, he seems stunned by the length of creamy thigh visible beneath the t-shirt hem, not to mention the huge Double Ds that sway pendulously beneath the thin cotton fabric. But then he looks away and gestures for me to sit on the couch once more.
“Take a seat, sweetheart,” he growls, his voice sounding a bit choked. “Let’s take a look.”
I manage to lower myself, gasping a bit at the pain. Carl sinks to his knees before me before appraising the damage.
“It’s bad, but nothing a bit of Neosporin can’t fix,” he says, dabbing at the wound on my knee with water and alcohol. It stings, but I bite my tongue and let him do his work.
