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“Just perfect,” she snipes, reaching for a tumbler.
She turns toward the sink full of ice and jerks her hand to scoop some ice up, misjudging the distance badly. Her hand and the tumbler slam into the side of the metal sink with a crunch. Jesus fuck.
The lass whimpers, blood dripping onto the floor from her hand. I’m on my feet and around the bar in an instant.
“It’s fine,” she whispers, her voice laced with pain, trying to jerk her hand away from me. I ignore her with a small growl, seizing her wrist and pulling her hand gently toward me.
Pieces of the broken tumbler fall from the lass’s hand, and she has shards of glass buried in her palm.
“Let’s get ye cleaned up,” I say quietly, leading her into the small kitchenette where there is a first aid kit.
Once we are in the kitchen, I lift her by her waist, settling her on the metal counter and moving between her knees, pushing her legs apart with my hips.
If she weren’t bleeding everywhere, I probably would be having trouble controlling my dirty thoughts at having her in this position.
My eyes meet hers, and I have to bite back a groan as her blue eyes swim with unshed tears. Jesus fuck. This little blue-eyed lass of mine is gorgeous.
Chapter Thirteen
MELLIE
Well, I feel like the world’s biggest idiot. I was so worked up and annoyed that, once again, Niall was all about Tiggy that I’ve managed to smash a glass in my hand. Could I be any weirder?
Clumsiness isn’t sexy, and neither is dripping blood everywhere. Shoot me now. Niall sets me on the counter like a child, but I think it’s so he can see my hand better, considering he’s about six foot two and I’m only five-four.
He spreads my legs with his hips, standing between them, the first aid kit lying beside me on the stainless steel countertop. Even though I’m dripping blood everywhere with pieces of broken glass sticking out of my hand, I’m freaking wet at having him between my legs. I officially need psychological help.
My sexy thoughts about Niall evaporate wicked fast when he holds my hand in one of his, palm up, and uses a small pair of tweezers to start plucking the shards of glass out of my flesh.
“Ow, ow, ow, freaking ow!” I whimper, blinking back tears. I might sound like a cry baby, but I refuse to look like one, especially in front of Niall.
“Well, hold still,amhuirnín, and I'll get it out.” He’s speaking softly, and his fingers stroke over my wrist to get me to relax. I melt a little bit at his soft tone and his Irish words.
Holding still, I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my teeth while Niall concentrates on his task. I peek out from one eye.
“Is it out yet? Ow!”
“Almost, stop squirming,” he murmurs patiently.
“Stop squirming? I'm in freaking pain! Unless you have a foolproof way to distract me from that -.”
Niall cuts me off by kissing me, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips until I part them with a surprised whimper. He licks into my mouth, his tongue dancing with mine. I sigh against his lips, reveling at this moment, but, just as abruptly, his mouth is gone.
“There, now hold still for two fecking seconds, and I'll have this done.”
I grit my teeth as he cleans my hand, my head swimming because Niall just freakingkissedme like it was no big freaking deal. How is he still so cool, calm, and collected after that? I’m a freakingpuddleof need right now.
He finally finishes, placing down the tweezers with a soft clink. Leaning forward, Niall kisses me again, his tongue stroking against mine. My brain fries with pleasure.
But right as I start getting into it, a burning pain sears at my palm.
“Ow!” I squeal, pulling my head away and looking down to where Niall has poured rubbing alcohol over my hand to disinfect it.
“'Sure, and I’m sorry,amhuirnín. But it's the best way.” He doesn’t sound contrite at all as he moves to bandage my hand.
“A little warning would have been nice,” I snipe. Niall’s eyes dart up to mine as the corners of his lips tug up into the tiniest smile. My heart takes off at the sight. Christ, he’s handsome.
“Ye got a kiss, lass. Surely that's better than a warning?”
