CH.15
1330 Words
“You’re bleeding!”
I was startled and quickly looked down at my bare thigh.
A thin red line marred the pale skin where the delicate flesh had split open. A bead of blood slowly welled up in a vivid color that contrasted against my fair complexion.
"Oh," I breathed, surprised. "That's an old wound that I thought had healed. I didn't notice it had opened up again!"
I leaned forward instinctively, my loose locks of hair tumbling over my shoulders and framing my face like a curtain.
The scent of my shampoo intensified, mingling with the car's leather interior and his masculine cologne.
It was an intoxicating combination that made my head swim slightly.
I was about to reach down and touch the wound when his large hand shot out, firmly but gently grabbing my wrist to stop me.
His smooth skin was warm against mine, and the contact sent a jolt of electricity through me yet again.
My toes curled and moist pulled between my legs.
Oh lord..! Take me, already!
"Don't touch it," he commanded in his authoritative tone that never failed to make my heart skip a beat.
My stomach fluttered with intimidation and... something else I didn't want to name.
His gaze was burning.
I inhaled a shaky breath when the traffic light turned green.
He started the car again, the low growl of the powerful engine matching the intensity in his eyes. But instead of continuing on our route, he smoothly pulled over to the side of the road.
The tires crunched softly on the gravel shoulder as the car came to an abrupt halt.
His eyes met mine again before they averted to my bare thighs.
His expression remained unchanged, as though he was a man made of steel instead of blood.
My gaze involuntarily drifted to his crotch again, trying to see if he indeed wasn’t feeling the same tension that simmered between us—one that was so thick in the air. But the dent in his pants remained the same.
A wave of disappointment washed over me.
“Where you expecting to see something?”
I almost jumped out of my skin when I suddenly felt his hot breath on my face, and his lips brushed so slightly against my ear.
“I…” I trailed off, not knowing what to say.
My cheeks were flushed, and embarrassment washed over me.
“You might get a heart attack,” he smirked.
I wished the ground would open and swallow me whole. This was too mortifying!
“W-what—”
"I'll take care of it," he said simply, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the driver's seat.
I furrowed my eyebrows in astonishment as he circled around to my side of the car, his long strides eating up the distance quickly.
What? Was he going to?
Oh God, no! This can’t be happening. I’m a married woman.
Before I could gather my wits to say a word, he opened my door wider and leaned across me to retrieve a small first aid kit from the glovebox.
The proximity of his body to mine made my breath catch in my throat.
I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the intoxicating blend of something uniquely him.
He took out a cotton swab and a vial of sterilizer. "You don't seem like the type to take care of minor injuries," he remarked dryly, his eyes flicking to my poorly wrapped foot with clear disapproval. "Your bandaged foot is the best proof of your carelessness."
My heart was beating like a jackhammer in my chest, so loud I was sure he must be able to hear it.
The thought of him touching me, tending to me, was exciting in a way I didn't want to admit even to myself.
It felt forbidden, dangerous, and utterly thrilling.
"I… I can do it on my own," I insisted weakly, extending my hand to take the bottle of antiseptic from him.
He pushed my hand aside without ceremony and his larger one engulfed mine for a brief, electrifying moment.
"I know how reckless women like you deal with wounds," he said, fixing me with a knowing look that made me feel incredibly small and vulnerable. "And I'm sure you'll avoid applying the sterilizer properly."
I wasn’t usually the type to give in easily, for my stubborn streak was a mile wide. But I found myself wanting his attention and care more than I cared to admit.
I let out a dramatic sigh that was more for show than genuine reluctance. "Okay, but don't put too much sanitizer on, please. It stings like hell."
He looked down at my exposed thighs, and I watched as his pupils dilated slightly.
To my utter mortification and secret thrill, he reached out and lifted the hem of my dress up to my pelvis.
The light fabric whispered against my skin as it rose, revealing more and more of my legs until my plain cotton panties were almost visible to his hungry eyes.
I felt delightful tremors run through me at his boldness. A mix of embarrassment and arousal flooded my system.
"The sterilizer will sting you a bit," he warned, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur.
His intense eyes met mine, gauging my reaction.
I could only nod mutely, giving him silent permission as my throat went dry with nervous anticipation.
He poured a small amount of the clear antiseptic liquid directly onto the shallow cut on my thigh.
The sting was instantaneous and sharp, like a thousand tiny needles pricking my skin.
I couldn't hold back my groan of pain. The sound escaped my lips before I could stop it. "It hurts so bad!" I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut against the burning sensation.
When I finally opened my eyes again, blinking away the reflexive tears, I was met with his darkened features and heavy-lidded gaze fixed on me.
The look in his eyes was predatory and hungry. It made my insides clench with fear and desire.
"Sometimes you reach bliss after pain," he said in a low, gravelly murmur that seemed to caress my very soul.
The double meaning in his words wasn't lost on me. A rush of heat flooded my cheeks and spread down my neck.
With that, he gently swiped the cotton swab over the wound, cleaning away the excess antiseptic and blood with a tenderness that belied his imposing presence. "Don't be such a whiny child," Mr. Blackthorn chided, though his tone held no real rebuke.
His other large hand came to rest high up on my thigh, the innocent point of contact igniting a slow burn of desire deep within me that made me clench my thighs tightly together.
"You really don't have to go through all this trouble for me," I protested weakly, wanting to escape the unfamiliar but incredibly tempting feelings he was stirring up.
"I appreciate your concern, but I have two hands to help myself." My voice sounded breathy and uncertain even to my own ears.
Mr. Blackthorn ignored my feeble objection, seemingly focused solely on carefully tending to my wound.
He lowered his head, bringing his face close to my thigh, and I felt the fine strands of his dark hair brush against my sensitized skin as it fell over his forehead.
An irrational urge to reach out and run my fingers through those silky locks nearly overwhelmed me.
I had to clench my fists at my sides to resist the temptation.
"Why is your body in such a bad state?"
Mr. Blackthorn’s voice pulled me from the wandering path of my thoughts, tinged with a concern that seemed at odds with his otherwise commanding demeanor.
"Your foot is damaged, there's an ugly bruise marring the lovely skin of your neck, and now this unsightly cut on your thigh." He added with a raised eyebrow as though daring me to make any more flimsy excuses.
- Writer
