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My movements come to a halt when I’m slammed by the most erotic view.
Bran’s white T-shirt has turned transparent, sticking to his muscles and flashing his nipples in a striptease show. My dick twitches and I have to look up so I don’t get an unwanted and entirely embarrassing erection.
I’m trying to prove a point, damn it.
Be cold.
Stay cool.
Don’t fucking give in.
“This is a bit inconvenient,” Bran mutters as he tries to unhook the strap at his chin.
I push his hand away and do it for him, then remove the helmet.
“I could’ve done it myself,” he grumbles
“Or you could say thank you.”
“Thanks.”
Fuck me.
I’m not used to this docile part of him. Yes, he’s polite and shit, but he’s being extra careful today.
Almost as if he’s walking on eggshells.
He glances at me and his eyes widen as they focus on my neck, probably on the Band-Aid there.
My gaze follows his hand as he reaches toward it, but then he fists it and jams it in his pocket. “Is that really okay?”
“Don’t pretend that you care.”
A frown appears between his brows. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Why would you?”
“Think what you will of me, but I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
“If that were true, you would’ve visited me at the hospital.”
“I did—” He cuts himself off and looks away. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. Look at me.”
He slowly does, and an uncharacteristic sheen of pain covers his face.
“You visited? How come I never saw you?”
“You were sleeping.” He rubs the back of his head. “I managed to sneak past Jeremy and Gareth when they were speaking to the doctor. But I had to leave soon after since Lan came looking for me and was about to start more drama.”
So hewasthere.
I wasn’t imagining him sitting beside me and stroking my hair.
Is that tidbit supposed to make me feel this fucking giddy?
Cold. You have to be cold or this won’t work.
