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When the arm pressed against him came around the back of his neck and her fingers brushed there, a shiver ran through him. Odd, he’d never been particularly ticklish.
The image of her ass filling out her jeans from the night before popped into his thoughts, and heat moved up his neck. It wasn’t the time to notice her charms, not after he’d failed to help her.
She’d been pushing herself too far during their run. One of his sisters got like that, too anxious to not think about something that she tried to throw herself into the next thing. He should have recognized it and eased her back.
“Trenton, please put me down.” The grip Celia had on him tightened as she glanced around.
The park had begun to fill up with other morning joggers now that the sun had risen. He nodded to one who looked familiar, and the man grinned back.
“It’s just scuffed-up knees. There’s no need to make a scene.” Celia’s voice had a catch in it, and he glanced at her face. She had averted her eyes from the others, staring at Trenton’s ear instead.
“Your injury is obvious. No one will think twice about me carrying you.” The trees were at his back as he crossed to the buildings.
Her lips opened, but when another jogger passed, they pursed into a thin line. Instead of protesting again, her head hid in the crook of his neck. When her breath fanned over the skin there, he felt a tingle similar to the one before. With her so close, he caught the scent of her hair, smelling his own mint-cucumber shampoo. He didn’t mind that she’d used it, but the thought of her using it made his breath catch. Maybe it was the fact that he was picturing her naked and wet in the shower that did it. Not that he’d seen her naked.
Trenton cursed himself, lowering her a bit to block the semi-erection that had formed. Willing it back down wasn’t doing much. It was ridiculous. He’d shared shampoo with his sisters before, and carried them just like this when they were hurt.
It had been a while since his sexual need had snuck up on him. It was all Blake’s fault, getting him to objectify Celia.
Picking up his pace, Trenton was relieved when their building came into sight. He was careful not to jostle her as he climbed the few steps to the door, using his shoulder to push it open. The elevator was empty and waiting when they reached it.
“Please push our floor number,” he said. It was a mistake to ask. Celia pressed her chest against his as she reached past his shoulder to push the 5 button. His naked shower image of her shifted based on the firm breasts pressed against him. Trenton wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, but his hardening dick didn’t want to do either.
“We’ve almost reached our place. Will you put me down now?” Celia asked.
“Not until we’re inside,” Trenton told her. And he got himself under control. But she didn’t need to know that. He apparently was a perv, just like Blake.
She put the key in the lock at the condo door and gave it a twist. When she started to hand the key back, he shook his head. “That one’s yours. I meant to give you the spare yesterday.”
“Oh,” was all she said, but her hand curled closed around the key.
Toeing the door open, he moved straight in, not bothering with the shoe thing Emily had always insisted on. He deposited Celia on the couch, then turned away.
“You still need to get ready for work. I can take care of the bandaging,” she offered.
He was already heading into the kitchen for the first aid kit. “Just let me take care of it. You’re injured because I talked you into running with me.” The reminder helped to tamp down his body’s interest.
“Me being a klutz is not your fault.” When he glanced over at her, she was frowning down at her battered knees, her hand stemming the slow drip of blood.
“Oh, hey, don’t do that,” Trenton said, grabbing the kit and jogging back to her. He kneeled in front of the couch, clicking open the case he’d brought. Inside were wipes. He tore one open as he grabbed her hand, turning it to show her dirty and now blood-smeared palm. “This might sting a little.” Though her hand itself hadn’t been bleeding, the scrapes there were filled with dirt. He winced himself as he began to wipe it clean. “Sorry, we have to get this dirt off.”
When Celia didn’t respond, he glanced up. Her eyes had widened, and she was staring down at him, biting her lip.
“It probably hurts, but I’ll be done as quick as I can.” Trenton squeezed her hand a little, glad to see that the dirt hadn’t been as caked in as he’d feared.
She looked away. “It’s fine. I barely feel it.” The way she shifted on the couch showed the lie in her words.
Trenton shifted to her other hand, which was quicker to clean without the extra smear of blood. He put the used wipes down, grabbing an antiseptic one for her knee. “This might be a little worse.” He was careful not to rub as much as press. The bleeding had stopped, and a similar but deeper scrape appeared when he lifted the cotton away. He blew on the wound to help ease any ache.
“What are you doing?” she squeaked.
“Oh, sorry,” Trenton laughed as he opened the bandage. “My sisters used to say that helped. They were constantly getting scrapes when they were little, but I guess it’s silly for someone all grown up.” He carefully pressed the edges of the bandage down before glancing up at her.
Those dark eyes of hers held a shimmer. His smile fell away as he reached for her cheek. “Oh no, does it hurt that bad still? I can add a cream to it.”
For the slightest moment, her cheek pressed into his hand. Then she blinked, pulling away and looking anywhere but at him. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine.”
Trenton nodded, even though she likely couldn’t see it. He began the same process on her other knee, though he skipped the blowing. “Malcolm warned me that you always say you’re fine, even if you aren’t.”
