AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He holds my hand in the air for a moment, his dark gaze searching for something in my eyes. He switches his attention to the gash on my hairline.
“Hey bud, you know where Uncle Bane keeps his first aid kit?” Silas asks.
“Under the sink in the bathroom!” Hunter exclaims.
“Can you grab that for me?” Silas murmurs.
“You got it, Dad.” Hunter's footfalls echo in the house as he runs upstairs.
“Is it bad?” I try to pull a clue from his expression or body language, but he's more locked down than the nurse was last night when she was fixing me up.
“If you opened your cut, you could infect it. Your hands are full of bacteria.” He lowers my hand but doesn't release me. “Bane should've taken better care of you,” he says with a soft tsk, almost like he's thinking out loud.
I bristle at the insinuation. “I can take care of myself, you know.”
His gaze snaps to mine, his brows lifting high on his forehead. “Clearly.”
“And Bane took great care of me,” I continue, ignoring his sarcastic response. “The man gave me his bed for goodness' sake.”
“C'mon, Evangeline,” he says, tilting his head to the side and arching a dark brow. “That wasn't an entirely altruistic idea.”
Something about the condescending head tilt and almost mocking tone of voice strips away every self-preserving filter I possess.
I don't think about how he's my boss or my boyfriend's brother or why he brings out this side of me.
I mimic his expression, right down to the head tilt. “Oh, I suppose you're just here to enlighten me that your cousin wanted to”—I lean in close and hiss the next part—“fuck mein his bed last night, huh? As if that's the only possible place two peoplecouldfuck.”
The last thing I want to do is get into another weird tug-of-war thing with Silas—and I definitely don't want Hunter to witness it. But I can't stop myself.
He shuffles a step closer, the sides of his black boots on either side of my feet. “You've got a filthy mouth, Evangeline.” His voice sounds like a grumble, something more suited to voice acting.
I huff and roll my eyes. “Saying the word fuck isn't filthy.”
“You better not be talking like that around my son. I would hate to fire you already.”
I straighten up, my earlier teasing still clouding my senses. “Don't insult me,Mr. St. James.” I smirk, giving him my professional, no-nonsense voice, even if I did pitch his formal name in a tone that I know he understood. “I take my job very seriously. Besides, we both know you'd love to be able to fire me.”
The skin around his eyes twitches, and if I wasn't already staring at his deeply dark eyes, I would've missed it. “Don't call me that.”
He lets go of my wrist to settle his hands against my waist. His palms are steady and warm, searing my skin underneath the thin cotton shirt.
He hoists me up onto the island, and my hands fly to his forearms, bracing myself. “What are you doing?” It's less accusation and more breathy curiosity.
“You're too short.”
He says it so simply like that explains why he just lifted me onto the counter like it was nothing. Like that’s why his hands are sliding down the curve of my hips slowly.
As I release my hold on his forearms, my eyes wander over the intricate designs inked onto his right arm. His veins are visible, breathing movement into the art.
And why the hell areveinsso sexy all of a sudden?
I have to swallow a couple of times to get my voice to work. My throat has quite literally gone dry watching the way his forearms flex. “And?”
He cups the uninjured side of my face, sliding his thumb under my chin and applying a little pressure. It's a silent request, and I find myself all too quick to oblige. I don't have time to ponder any of it as he turns my face away from him.
He shuffles between my legs, his breath feathering over the slope of my neck and that sensitive patch of skin underneath my ear.
The heat of his body and the tenderness of his touch cause something to clench inside of me and I squirm a little.
