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“I don’t get it.” I notice that her mahogany eyes keep raking up and down my body. I push my chest out, plumping my muscles.
I smirk. She’s funny. “Okay. I’ve never met anyone who uses their phone like that, so tell me if I say something stupid. I do have a man’s brain.”
She flashes a full smile at me, teeth and all.
Jesus, she’s pretty. I take another swig of beer, trying not to notice as she scoots a few inches closer. I examine the beer bottle. Actually, what am I thinking? Getting drunk will lower my inhibitions and make everything worse.
Before I can set the bottle down, Paige takes it and presses the rim to her bottom lip. Her tongue flutters against the glass to lick a drop off the tip, then she lets the dark liquid fill her mouth. Her eyes roam my body as she swallows. I glance down, a quick glimpse. Her white top is snug against her chest and she’s not wearing a bra. I can see each petite, erect nipple poking the fabric.
Hands off! Amber yells in my head.
Chill out. I’m not touching, just glancing. Paige staying here violates my no-attachments policy, and I wouldn’t touch now anyway, not in her condition. I have some decency in me.
Paige’s eyes fall to my crotch. There’s that smirk again. Damn, I wish I knew what that means.
My gaze lowers to the dried blood stains around her stomach and on the top of her pants. I frown as I think of the deep purple bruises on her skin. That protective part of me wants to ask, to know more about her, as if I’ll locate the guy who caused those injuries and pound his face in. But she seems happy right now, and I don’t want to ruin her mood.
Taking the beer from her and setting it on the coffee table, I turn my attention to the carpet. We had our fun sexing each other with our eyes. She should be resting.
“I’ll wash your clothes if you want to change out of them,” I say, pointing at the stains. “Dinner will be ready soon. Or you can rest.”
She shrugs and then stands. Before I realize what she’s doing, her yoga pants are pooled around her feet, hands poised to remove the shirt.
I bolt upright. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?”
She frowns.
“Yeah, but in a room. Go change in a room and then I’ll wash them.” It takes all my strength to stare at the wall and not at Paige’s black lace underwear. Why does it have to be black and lace? The combination I find sexiest. Is this a test? Am I on a prank show?
Paige sighs and whips her shirt off. She points at the TV.
I’m too shocked to even process her very bare torso. I can only stare at her face, my jaw slack and eyes wide. Is she serious? Then I look. There are round, perky, sexy breasts right there and I can’t help it. They’re fucking beautiful breasts, ones I’ll have a hard time not thinking about.
My eyes are drawn to the bruises on her stomach and the fresh blood on her bandages. I grind my teeth. I hope the bastard who did this to her rots in hell.
“Come over here,” I say softly, motioning her to the kitchen. Since she’s already topless, I might as well change the bandage before she puts on new clothes. The supplies I bought earlier are scattered on the wooden table—large butterfly bandages, wrap-around bandages, gauze, medical tape, antibacterial gel. I encourage her to stand in front of me while I sit in a chair. “You might be bleeding again. Can I take this bandage off?”
She shakes her head, face strained.
“I’ll do it quicker than Amber.” I grab a tequila bottle from under the sink and pour a shot into a glass. “Here. Swallow this first.”
She hesitates, then snatches the glass and drains it down her throat, hissing.
“Damn, my kind of woman.”
She smirks, setting the glass upside down on the table like a pro. I peel back a corner of the bandage enough to grip it. She flinches.
“Just nod when you’re ready.”
With a grimace, she nods, and I yank down with a swift movement, using all my strength. Her face contorts, mouth open as she makes soft whimpering sounds. She balls her fists and presses them against her forehead.
The stitches are still intact, but the butterfly bandages under the larger covering slid off. Crappy dollar store brand. I snap on a glove and blot fresh blood as it drips from between each stitch. Then I spread gel over the entire wound. Paige grits her teeth, but I’m not sure if the wound is causing that much pain or if it’s something else.
I hold up the gauze. “We’ll use this instead. Then I’ll wrap it with a fabric bandage, so nothing will stick to you. Should hurt less when you need to clean it.” Look at me talking like I know what I’m doing. I hope medical drama shows are accurate, because that’s the extent of my knowledge.
She touches her chin and then makes a hand motion.
