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Was he serious?
His smile widened.
He shifted to put the blood-soaked wet wipes away, the way his profile was illuminated by the bedside table lamp, lining him with a soft glow, made her reach out her hand to place over his heart. She wasn’t even sure why she did it, just that there was a need to touch him. To connect. When he immediately got his gaze back on hers, she felt her stomach dip, a rush of desire bursting through her as he gently grasped her wrist. Small furrow between his brows.
“Do you really mean it?” she asked.
She searched his face, her eyes landing on his. His were searching, too, as if he wanted her to believe him but didn’t know how to make her.
Before he could pick some inane wording for it, and before she could think twice about why or if she should or what she was doing, she leaned in. Her lips connected with his, warm and soft. He met the kiss, lips parting slightly. She pulled away an inch, breath mingling with his as she caught herself. Why was she being impulsive? But then he moved his head forward, catching her lips again, the kiss deeper this time. Unapologetically so, as his tongue licked against hers until she made a soft noise. Her hands were sliding into his hair. She felt an urge to straddle him but finally got hold of herself, pulling away properly this time, eyes in his as she scooted away from him a little.
His breathing was as labored as hers was. Her body tingling with a litany of sensations, the heat lingering right beneath her skin, leaving her glowing. Fire traced his veins as well. Powerful and tantalizing.
“You didn’t let me answer,” he said.
“We don’t even know each other,” she countered. She had to admit it sounded feeble and strange after she’d interrupted him with a make-out session.
“Don’t we?”
The question was innocent enough to make her insides tremble with sudden hope that they did. They did understand each other on some fundamental and previously unexplored level. She felt it. Like she’d known him for years.
No, this was insane.
They’d met five hours ago.
Her glow receded, as did his. Though his took a little longer, she was pleased to note, reminding herself he was seriously injured and probably shouldn’t engage in any activity that required physical exertion.
Physical exertion? Good Lord, who even was she?
She watched him as he slowly wound gauze around his leg, securing a sterile pad over the wound, wanting to reach out and help again, keeping her hands to herself.
Time to shift focus.
“Do you have your phone?” she asked.
“No,” he said, finishing his task off with gauze tape. “They took it. Why?”
“Because I really should call my father.”
He cocked an eyebrow at that, then understanding settled on his face.
“Do you think he’d help?”
“Doyouthink he’s behind this?”
“I only care what you think. Do you think he is?”
She thought about it again, wondering if her father would actually put her through such a strange scenario to test her wherewithal. Perhaps. But it also felt too clunky for him. Gregor felt too cocky. Too much like he believed he was in real possession of the control he’d stolen for himself.
“No,” she finally said. “It makes no sense to me why he’d do this.”
Dmitri let the statement sink in. Then nodded that he believed her.
“There’s a phone in the hallway,” he said.
“How does that help? How do we get to it?”
“I’ll see to that,” he stated, swinging both legs over the edge of the bed, making a face at the pain.
