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His eyebrows arch like he’s going to say something else. Then Mariska walks back into the living room with a hefty-looking first aid kit.
He takes it from her. “Thank you, Mariska. Take the evening off, please.”
She gives him a self-conscious smile and backs out of the room. And all I can think is,No, Mariska, don’t leave me alone with him!
Though I haven’t yet decided if it’s because I can’t trust him…
Or because I can’t trust myself.
I glance down at the cut on my thigh. It’s mostly stopped bleeding, but it does look like a pretty gnarly tear. Uri sits down on the carved, glass-topped coffee table in front of me and opens up the first-aid kit.
“Put your leg on my lap.”
“Excuse me?” I nearly choke on my own tongue while he regards me with a raised eyebrow.
“Your leg,” he says with emphasized slowness, like I’m stupid. “On my lap. Unless you’d like me to try bandaging you up from a distance.”
I gulp. “Um, right. Yeah. Okay…”
Gingerly, I raise my leg and place it over his knee so that my foot dangles onto the coffee table behind him. The heat of his body soaks into my skin. He examines the wound for a prolonged few seconds before he takes a double handful of the fabric of my too-thin tights…
… and rips it apart like the Incredible Hulk.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I balk as my leggings peel apart uselessly like wilted flower petals.
“I need to see the wound properly and the fabric is getting in my way. Plus, it’s already destroyed, so I haven’t done anything to you that you didn’t do to yourself. Now, stop fussing and let me take care of this before it gets infected.”
My jaw snaps shut but the heat spreading through me is no joke. I could really use a cold shower right about now.
For more reasons than one.
His fingers graze against my inner thigh and I draw in a breath. When he raises his eyes to mine, I find myself unable to look away.
Aaand cue the blushing.I’m disappointed in myself for not lasting that long. But I suppose it was a losing battle from the start.
“Y-you really don’t have to do this,” I blurt.
He doesn’t raise his head from where his fingers are kneading at my skin. “You’re in my house, pants ruined, with your thigh draped over my leg. We’ve come this far. No point in turning back now.”
I look down and nod, hoping that he hasn’t noticed the blush. Oh, who the hell am I kidding? Of course he’s noticed. My usually pale skin goes from borderline anemic to blotchy sunburn in a matter of seconds. Subtle, it is not.
I stay silent while he cleans the wound with a cotton swab to remove the debris. For such a big, brutish man, he’s meticulous and gentle.
“Dealt with a lot of bloody wounds in your lifetime?” I joke.
“Many. I don’t usually stick around for the bandaging part, though.”
“Ha-ha,” I say awkwardly. “Bringing new meaning to the word ‘ladykiller.’”
He doesn’t so much as crack a smile. He does, however, keep cleaning my bloody thigh.
My heart rate rises so fast that my palms start to sweat. All those mob rumors came racing back into my head. It’s not like they’re that hard to believe. I mean, the man lives on a fenced compound bristling with every type of security known to man. It’s beyond me now why I thought trespassing here was a good idea.
Uri pulls back suddenly and I jump in place. He freezes, turning his eyes on me. “You can relax. I’m just getting the disinfectant.”
I clear my throat. “Right. Of course. Knew that.”
He reaches into the kit and comes up with a bottle. “Are you scared of me, Alyssa?”
