Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
But he waves me away. “It’s not as bad as it looks. If you have any thread—”
“No, sorry, I left all my medical-grade thread in my other apartment. What are you thinking? Go to a freaking doctor.”
He grins at me and leans his head back against the wall, back arched over the toilet tank. “I’m right where I want to be.”
Under other circumstances, that might almost be sweet. Except Angelo got into a fight earlier and murdered a guy, and now he’s sitting in my bathroom covered in a stranger’s blood and looking like hell.
“You’re an idiot,” I say, getting down on my knees in front of him.
His eyes light up. “Don’t tease me,” he says, voice low and gruff.
I try not to smile as I gently prod at the wound on his arm. “I can’t fix these, but I have some gauze. That’ll keep you from bleeding to death at least until you come to your senses.”
“That would be appreciated. Can I clean off this blood first?”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
He gets to his feet with a grunt and starts to take off his pants. I turn my back, my cheeks turning bright red. He seems to find that amusing, and I refuse to look over my shoulder until I hear the shower curtain open and close.
“I’ll toss these in the wash. I doubt the blood will come out but at least it’ll be clean.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
I leave the room and jam his stuff into the machines then dig around my closet until I find an old XL sized sweatshirt and the biggest sweatpants I can find. Back in the bathroom, he’s still behind the curtain, but I feel like I can already see him totally naked with water dribbling down his incredibly defined body.
“Clean clothes are here,” I say and turn to give him some privacy.
“Claudia.” He’s looking at me, just the outline of his face and one muscular arm visible in the gap between the curtain and the wall. “Stay in here.”
I open my mouth to say something defensive and snarky about how he’s a grown man and can clean himself, but the look he’s giving me makes me shut my mouth. It’s not exactly vulnerable, but there’s a need in his eye, and I sigh and sit down on the toilet. He nods and goes back to washing.
“Do you do this often?” I ask him.
“Which part? Shower? At least once a month.”
“No, asshole, I mean nearly get yourself killed.”
“Also at least once a month.”
I lean my face into my hands. “This is going to be a problem.”
“Which part? Is me showering at your place really that distracting?”
“No, I mean, you showing up whenever you want.”
“I don’t think that’s an issue.” He laughs quietly. “God, you have the girliest shit. I’m going to smell like fucking lilac.”
“I’m a girl, so yeah, that sounds right.” I get to my feet, annoyed. “If you’re just going to complain—”
“Stay,” he says, looking at me. And fuck, water’s dripping from his gorgeous lips and along his cheekbones, and I sit my ass back down.
“Should you be nervous? About the dead guy?”
“That’ll be fine,” he says as water splatters on the floor. I picture him washing his hair, his muscular back working as his big hands lather his head. “I got rid of the gun before coming here and there aren’t cameras in that alley.”
“What about the other guy? The Roc guy?”
“He won’t turn me in. The second he did, half the city would want him dead. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”
“I’m not even sure why I’m asking. I mean, you’re a Bianco. You can probably buy a judge.”
He laughs as the water stops. “Tried that once. Didn’t work.” The curtain pulls back and I catch a glimpse of a toned and gorgeous body, soaking wet, his abs ripped, his thighs massive, his soft cock long and thick—
And then I’m ducking away. “Oh, shit, warn me next time.”
“Don’t act like you’ve never seen a naked man before.” I hear him wrap the towel around himself as I get the hell out of there, head ringing with the vision of his sexy naked body, all wet and warm and gorgeous.
While he gets dressed, I make some tea and prepare the medical supplies. He comes out wearing my sweats, which are comically small on him, but at least they’re better than nothing—though I’m extremely aware of the outline of his big dick.
“Stop staring,” he says with a knowing smirk. “I feel objectified already.”
“Sit down, idiot, and let me wrap your arm.”
He obeys. I get to work, being as careful as I can. “Can I ask you something?”
“I just admitted to murdering someone to you, so yeah, you can ask me a question. I think there’s some trust between us now.”
“Why’d you come here? Instead of somewhere else?”