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“Need help?” His voice was gruff, and I felt a jolt at his words. There was a certain electricity in the air, drawing us closer.
I hesitated, torn between wariness and attraction. He was a mystery wrapped in a good-looking package, but I was drawn to him, transfixed by his aura. With a slight nod, I allowed him to step closer. He moved with an ease and purpose that was almost mesmerizing.
His hand came up, pushing a loose strand of hair from my face. His touch sent a warm current through me, causing me to blush and lean into his hand.
Yet, amidst the tenderness, there was a twinge of fear. He was still an unknown, a tantalizing enigma.
His fingers traced the forming bruises on my arm, the contact sending a delightful chill through my veins. His gaze was overwhelming, a mix of concern and interest. “Are you hurt?” His voice was low, a husky rumble that sent a thrill through me.
I found myself unable to speak, the heat of his touch sparking an urge within me. His face softened with regret and concern. “I won’t hurt you, Wildflower,” he assured, his voice carrying a gentle growl.
He stepped closer, insistent on checking my condition. His touch was firm yet delicate, stirring a longing I couldn’t deny.
Our connection in that moment felt electric, everything else fading into insignificance. “You’re okay now, Wildflower,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble resonating within me.
I knew I should push him away, but his pull was too strong. His fingers gently traced my forming bruises, causing him to furrow his brow in anger. “You’re pretty banged up. Anything else hurting?” he asked, his voice rough with worry.
Caught by his glare, I hesitated before admitting, “My head’s throbbing a bit.”
He put his hands on my shoulders, grounding me. “You could have a concussion,” he grumbled, concern lacing his words.
“I’m okay,” I managed to say. “Just shaken up from the deer.”
His eyes examined me, checking for injuries. As his gaze slid down, my veins buzzed. He reached out, his hands finding my waist. “I need to make sure you’re okay everywhere else,” he said, his voice a husky whisper.
His touch sent warmth through me. I struggled to keep my composure as he slowly moved his hands along my body, amplifying the charged atmosphere between us.
He stopped at my knees, his gaze seeking mine. “I need to check your legs, too. Is that okay?” His question hung in the air, filled with unspoken meaning.
I nodded, silently agreeing to his request. As he checked me over, the force of the moment was almost overwhelming.
Finally, he pulled back. “You might be sore tomorrow, but it looks like you’re okay. Let’s go look at your truck,” he suggested. I watched him, drawn to the effortless strength and grace in his movements.
“Damn, this is pretty bad,” he remarked, straightening up and turning to face me. “Your axle is shot. Your engine is beyond repair. You’ll need a tow.”
Fuck. More expenses. More bills.
“Thanks. I’ll call for help,” I replied, frustration etched on my face.
Declan noticed my expression and tilted his head, studying me intently with his dark, penetrating eyes. “You look like you could use a drink,” he suggested, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Or maybe a visit to the hospital. I’m still worried about a concussion.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “A drink won’t solve my problems right now. I need a ride,” I said, glancing at his motorcycle, an idea forming in my mind.
He raised an eyebrow, genuine concern furrowing his brow. “To the hospital?”
I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Hospitals meant bills I couldn’t afford. Plus, I wasn’t in terrible shape. “To my friend’s house.”
“A friend’s house,” he repeated, skepticism lacing his voice. He glanced at his watch, a flicker of jealousy crossing his face. “At this hour? What kind of man makes his woman come to him?” His voice quivered with an undercurrent of anger.
Bewildered, I furrowed my brow. “It’s not like that.”
A cynical smile played on his mouth, possessiveness seeping into his voice. “Are you sure about that?”
“Why does it matter to you?” I asked, curiosity piqued.
He stepped closer, his dark eyes locked onto mine, holding me captive. “If you were mine, I’d come to you,” he growled seductively. “Hell, I’d probably never leave your side. I certainly wouldn’t have let you drive this beat-up truck without airbags.”
Embarrassment mixed with excitement, and a flush crept up my neck. “Well, I’m not yours. I love this damn truck, and my friend has a little boy,” I revealed. “It’s hard for her to go out on school nights.” It was odd that he was jealous whenTarawas half-dressed in his RV just a few days ago.
