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How did Dominic have the ability to suck all the oxygen out of the room simply by walking into it?
At least she was warm and clean and dry now. Unfortunately, the oversized sweatpants and top that smelled of him, which she’d found in the guest bedroom next door—after taking the world’s fastest shower in the en-suite wet room—still put her at a huge disadvantage.
In her bare feet, he towered over her, his suit trousers and white shirt perfectly tailored to accentuate his lean, well-muscled body.
‘I see you found some dry clothes.’ He studied her makeshift outfit in a way that made her feel like a street urchin playing dress-up before a king.
The intense look had her heart thundering harder against her ribs.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said.
‘Is the leg still bleeding?’ The gruff question had goosebumps springing up all over her skin, despite the cosy cotton sweats.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘I took a shower to clean it. I’m sure it’s fine.’
‘We’ll see,’ he said, sounding doubtful. He beckoned her with one finger and indicated a large armchair in the corner of the room. ‘Sit down so I can inspect it.’
She debated arguing with him again, because goosebumps were rising on the goosebumps now at the thought of getting any closer to him. But she could see by the muscle twitching in his jaw he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
She crossed the room, trying not to limp, and sat in the chair. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner she could start breathing freely again.
To her astonishment he knelt down in front of her. She braced her hands on the arms of the chair as he opened the box, and began to rummage through the array of medical supplies.
How had this happened? How had she ended up playing doctor with Dominic LeGrand? In his billion-pound house? In the intimacy of his study? While wearing his sweats with virtually nothing under them?
The traitorous heat—which had been lodged in her belly ever since the dispatcher had said his name—throbbed and glowed at her core.
But this time, she replayed the pep talk she’d given herself in the shower.
Why should she feel ashamed of her reaction to him? They were both consenting adults. Dominic had always captivated
her, even as a delinquent boy, and he was a world-renowned womaniser now. So she was bound to find him a little overwhelming—especially as she was so pathetically inexperienced with men.
Looking after her mother and keeping food on the table and a roof over both their heads hadn’t left her any time to date while she was at school. And after her mother died, trying to realise her dream of becoming a fashion designer and stop her finances from slipping into a black hole hadn’t increased her opportunities much. In fact, despite a few fumbling encounters, she was still a virgin. Which explained why she had such a violent reaction to someone as overwhelming as Dominic LeGrand.
Having rationalised her attraction, she watched him unobserved as he arranged a bandage and a packet of antiseptic wipes on the side table.
Even when he was on his knees, his head was almost level with hers. The light from the lamp behind her caught the streaks of gold in his tawny hair. She could make out the scar on his brow, the one she’d wondered about often when they were children. How had he got it?
His shoulders flexed, stretching the seams of his shirt, as he reached down to cradle her heel in his palm.
She jumped, sensation sprinting up her leg and sinking deep into her sex as callused fingers gripped her ankle.
‘Does that hurt?’ he asked, his chocolate gaze locking on her face.
‘No, it’s just...’ No man has ever touched me there before. ‘I was just surprised.’ Who knew my ankle was an erogenous zone?
‘Okay.’ He frowned, but seemed to take the explanation at face value. ‘Let me know if it does hurt.’
She nodded, her whole foot humming as he gripped her heel and used his other hand to lift the leg of her sweatpants past her knee.
He hissed as the gash was revealed. It wasn’t too deep, more like a bad scrape where the pedal had dug into the skin, but it was still bleeding a little and there was some bruising visible around the wound.
‘Nasty,’ he murmured as he grabbed one of the antiseptic wipes with his free hand.
He ripped the small packet open with his teeth.
‘Do you know how you did it?’ he asked, dabbing at the wound.
