AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He was wincing when she stood back up to assess her supplies, but he seemed to know better than to complain about her fumbling bedside manner. “You did say that you weren’t any good at this,” he said, waving a hand to indicate his wound. “It doesn’t seem like it’s anything vital, so I should be fine regardless.”
She snorted and started laying supplies on the table in a tidy line. “You still look like shit.”
“You should see the other guy.”
His attempt at humor fell flat and her fingers stilled on the gauze in her hand. She didn’t want to ask, but she had to know. “Did you hurt anyone tonight?”
“I can’t say I wouldn’t have hurt someone if I had to—I value my life enough to shoot back when someone takes a chunk out of me—but it wasn’t necessary this time.”
He was so close to her, his eyes dark and serious as he watched her preparations. She knew he didn’t want her to ask questions, but she had to know. “What happened?”
He hesitated a beat too long before answering. “Bar fight.”
“Bar fight?” It was possible, but that pause made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. He wasn’t being honest about it and she crossed her arms and stared him down, daring him with eyes to lie to her again.
He shrugged, wincing when it pulled on the wound and sent a fresh rivulet of blood running down his side. “I told you, it’s a rough crowd. The cops don’t tend to come running when someone starts fucking up the place so we handle it ourselves.”
It made sense, in a very Ethan-esque kind of way, and without further proof that he wasn’t telling her the truth she could only shake her head in disappointed bemusement as she went back to work again. They’d have another talk about it once he was patched up. She started to unroll the gauze as she glared at him over her shoulder. “You need a new job.”
“My mother would’ve agreed with you, but sometimes it’s just not that simple.” He sounded so tired. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally, as well.
“So what happens the next time someone shoots at you? You shoot back? You might kill them.” Her fingers were shaky as she tried to estimate the amount of gauze she’d need and prepare the white medical tape. How close had he already come to hurting someone? Closer than they’d come to killing him tonight?
He reached out and caught her arm in his grip, turning her until she was facing him, her eyes nearly level with his while he was sitting. “Or they might kill me,” he said. “I can’t leave, and I do what I have to.”
“Why? If you’re in danger or, God forbid, if you’re doing something illegal like I think you are, then why can’t you leave?”
He shook his head and tugged her hand, drawing her forward until she was trapped in the space between his thighs. “I can’t talk to you about that—I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this—but I couldn’t stay away from you.”
“Ethan …”
“No,” he said, tipping his head until his forehead rested on the curve of her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t stay away.”
Would she have been happier if he had? If he had stayed on his porch and been nothing to her but an annoying neighbor?
“I’m glad you didn’t stay away,” she said, her voice so low that she wasn’t entirely sure he could hear her. His body shuddered, the words rolling over him and creating a visible effect as he pulled her closer, hands tightening on her hips.
“You should let me bandage this,” she said tightly, swallowing hard against the rising nervousness in her throat. She’d been so focused on the blood and the wound that she’d forgotten for a short time how dangerous it was to be so close to him. It had been foolish, and the heat spreading through her from every place his body was touching hers was a potent reminder of her error.
“Yeah,” he agreed, turning to nuzzle his face into the side of her neck. “I should let you do that.”
Her skin came alive under the simple touch, aching for even the soft breath that caressed her as he worked his way up her neck and across her jaw with a gentleness that seemed at odds with the kind of man that showed up to a woman’s house in the middle of the night nursing a gunshot wound.
She grabbed for his shoulders, her knees weak beneath her, and met nothing but skin. It was jolting, disorienting until she remembered that she’d taken his shirt off to examine his side. She hadn’t paid attention then, hadn’t even really looked at him when she’d done it, but her eyes flew open at the feel of hard muscle and hot flesh under her hands.
She whimpered, horribly and humiliatingly whimpered, when her gaze met a wall of pale skin and vibrantly inked colors. The tattoos on his arm snaked up over his shoulder and across one side of his chest. His skin jumped slightly under her fingertips as she traced the lines, and his eyes were dark and dangerous as he watched her.
She felt powerful, truly bold for the first time in her life.
When his hand cupped the back of her head and pulled her lips down to his, she didn’t hesitate, leaning into him with a pounding heart and parted lips.
His tongue swept inside, hotly possessive and tasting of vodka, and she was lost. The final threads of rationality and control that kept her safe snapped under a surge of desire and she tangled a hand in his hair, pulling him closer as he rumbled in satisfaction, the low and satisfied sound sending a rush of heat straight to her core.
She might have embarrassed herself further by climbing into his lap if she hadn’t accidentally bumped his side with her knee in her clumsy attempt.
“Shit,” he swore, taking great, gasping breaths as she pulled back quickly, wincing at the fresh drops of blood that were dripping onto the floor.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, horrified at the result of her own foolish eagerness.
