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“We’ll talk about that,” he promises as he takes a seat next to me on my couch. “I didn’t notice that in the car.”
If he’s talking about how my heart is thundering in my chest, I don’t know how he missed it. The sound is deafening to me, but it’s my heart, so maybe I’m the only one who can hear it.
“Your elbow is split wide open too,” he remarks, his gaze darting to the scrape on my knee before it lands back on my arm. “That tumble was brutal.”
“It hurt,” I admit. “I must have slipped on the wet pavement.”
“You flew by the car I was in,” he admits. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever catch up to you.”
I smile at the suggestion that I could beat the man in a foot race.
His legs are so much longer than mine; his body more powerful.
“We need to get all of those wounds cleaned up.” His eyes catch mine. “In my professional opinion, a shower would be the best approach for that.”
The idea of being naked in my apartment with him anywhere within a ten-block radius, heats me from the inside out.
“You’re flushed.” He rests the back of his right hand against my forehead. “Are you feeling lightheaded?”
Not sure, if what I’m feeling is related to my fall or his presence, I nod. “A little, I think.”
His gaze drops to my arm again and then beyond to my knee. “Maybe I should take you in to be checked. I’m worried you hit your head, Eloise.”
The last place I want to go is the hospital because I’m not sure I’ll get another chance to be alone with him again. “No, I’m fine.”
“At least let me help you to the shower,” he says with a tilt of his head. “I realize things between us are…”
“You can help me,” I interrupt not wanting to hear him describe how he views things between us.
I want to hold tight to the memory of that night at the club for the rest of my life.
I can’t lose that. I won’t.
He grabs hold of my hand, stopping to squeeze it. “Take your time getting up.”
I don’t need the warning, but I listen, and allow him to guide me to my feet at a pace he sees fit. He is the professional, after all.
We walk slowly down the hallway toward the main bathroom. His hand hasn’t left mine and I already know that when it does, I’ll feel bereft.
Once we reach the threshold of the bathroom, he gazes down at me. “Do you need help with the zipper?”
I don’t, but I’m not about to tell him that, so I turn slightly to give him access. “Yes.”
His hand leaves mine to search for the zipper pull at the top of my dress. He pushes my hair to the side, his fingers lingering on the skin of my neck.
I shiver from his touch, and again when he tugs the zipper down.
I’m not wearing a bra tonight, but I sense the moment he catches a glimpse of the top of my black lace panties because I hear his breathing stutter for a second.
“I’ll wait here for you,” he whispers. “If you need anything, just call my name.”
Fueled by the mad desire I feel, I look up at him. “I will, Garin.”
His full lips part slightly. “Touché, lamb.”
“I won’t be long, sir.”
He closes his eyes as his chin rises. “Shower, Eloise. I need to tend to your wounds.”
