Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 106948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Instead of giving me his cup, he slid it forward with his large hand still wrapped around it.
I hesitated, and then, in an unusually graceless move, managed to pour steaming-hot coffee on his hand instead of in the cup.
“Shit,” he hissed, and shook his hand out.
“I’m so sorry!”
Horrified, I jerked the pot up and back—scalding a small section of my own arm this time, which made me drop the insulated metal coffee pot with a sharp scream as intense pain lit up the nerves and agony sizzled along my skin.
Instantly tears filled my eyes as I checked my arm, the skin growing angry and pink as the burning seemed to increase with every passing second.
Before I could move, I found a big arm looped around my waist, hustling me back to the bathrooms as I cradled my arm and cried.
Thankfully there was no one in white-and-black tiled room with us, but I didn’t really give any of that a thought. My only focus was on getting the pain to stop, and I was aided in that task when a calloused hand gently grasped my arm and turned on the cold water at one of the four sinks facing the mirrors, forcing me to hunch over the bleached-to-death white tile. As he helped me get comfortable, I became aware of how large he was, how he could almost perfectly rest his chin on the top of my head. He surrounded me, and as the burn began to die down, I turned my teary eyes to the mirror and found him watching me with a searching look I didn’t understand.
“Hannah, are you all right?”
His voice was deep, raspy, and I almost shivered as he shifted behind me, widening his stance while he guided my arm beneath the flow of water.
“How did you know my name?”
“You introduced yourself when I first sat down.”
“Oh, right.”
“And you’re wearing a nametag.”
I glanced down at my chest to confirm something I already knew, and noticed his hand resting on the faded sink countertop, the skin an angry bright pink.
Without thinking, I turned on the faucet of the sink next to us then grabbed his lightly haired wrist and thrust his large hand beneath the water, while he still held my arm beneath the other mercifully cold stream. The skin on the back of his hand looked like it hurt and I cringed inside. I’d injured him, like really hurt him, and his first reaction was to take care of me. Guilt swamped me and I sucked in a shaky breath.
The rushing water almost drowned out my voice as I whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
“Hey now,” he rumbled, the vibrations of his voice pinging off my nerves in a seductive baritone. “Look at me.”
He said that with such authority that I followed his command without thought. The serious set of his expression, the absolute dominance he gave off, washed over me in a soothing wave of heat. Next to my slender frame, he was positively beastly, a mature and grown man who knew who he was and what he wanted. Authoritative older men have always been a secret weakness of mine, and the man behind me embodied every one of my fantasies come to life. My nipples peaked and I was glad the ugly apron of my uniform hid them from his probing view.
Good Lord, what was wrong with me? I’d burned the shit out of a customer and all I could think about was how good he would feel on top of me.
Still holding my arm beneath the water, he pinned me to the spot with his dark stare. “Hannah, did you spill the coffee on purpose? Do it just to see me in pain?”
“What? No, of course not.” Offended that he would think that, I tried to pull my arm away. “It was an accident.”
“Then you have nothing to apologize for.” He removed his hand from my grasp then gently examined my skin with a care that made something melt inside of me. “Come with me, I think you should see a doctor.”
My shit insurance had a crazy-high co-pay, and unless I was dying, I avoided going to the ER at all costs. “That’s okay. I’ll just ice it and look up how to treat burns on the Internet.”
Wow, when he frowned, he was scary.
Before he could say anything, Beth, the night manager, came into the bathroom then let out a little shriek at the sight of the guy with the burned hand.
“Jesus, you’re a big one.” Her gaze found mine and went to my arm. “Hannah, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “I’m more worried about Mr…”
I looked at him, realizing I didn’t know his name, and found his gaze already on me. “Leo.”
Well, that fit. Bet with his hair down, he would kind of resemble a lion too. “I burned Mr. Leo’s hand.”