Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“Oh.” She releases her death grip on my shoulders, then meets my gaze. “Sorry.”
“You’re fine. Now let me see.” I kneel in front of her, and I can’t stop myself from letting my gaze wander up her thighs. Mateo, fucking focus. I look at her knees and farther up one thigh. “These leggings are done.” I grip the hole at her knee. “May I?”
“May you what?”
I pull the fabric apart, splitting it all the way up until I see the bottom edge of her pink panties.
“Oh!” She yelps and grips the edge of the white marble. “Yeah. They pretty much destroyed them already. It’s okay.”
My mouth waters, and my cock is acting up. This isn’t my style. Not the savior shit, or the doctor shit, and certainly not the get-hard-as-fuck-out-of-nowhere shit. Even so, I don’t stop.
I reach for the cabinet with the alcohol and bandages. That’s when she leans over a little and spreads her legs to get a better view of the cut along her thigh.
“No wonder it hurts.” She shakes her head. “Ouch.”
I stare at her panties, at the hot pink hearts along the pale pink fabric. She doesn’t notice, doesn’t see the way I can’t stop looking at her innocent little panties. I have to stop. I have to.
I don’t.
I break out in a fucking sweat. Jeez.
Get it together, asshole! I gather the supplies and kneel in front of her again. Her trusting gaze meets mine, and she says, “Thank you for helping me” so sweetly I can almost taste the sugar. Fuck me.
She may need some first aid, but I’ll need a cold shower by the time I’m done playing doctor.
4
Milly
For a big man, his touch is gentle. He takes his time tending to my cuts. I lean back and let him handle it. My eyes feel so heavy. Sleep is trying to lure me under, but I don’t want to go. I want to watch him work. I memorize his handsome face now that I can get a better look at him with the lights.
He’s not your typical handsome. His face is all hard lines and edges. It makes him look fiercer and more intimidating than he already is. I itch to reach out and run my finger along his jaw or the slope of his nose. It’s as if he’s been carved from stone like a protective warrior. Tonight he was my warrior, even if he hadn’t intended to be. I always somehow end up being a burden to the people around me. A nuisance that needs to be looked out for.
If my father had offered me this man when he tried to put a bodyguard on me, I might have cracked and let him. Even his dark gray eyes are intense and only add to the idea that he’s been etched from stone.
His hand pauses on my leg, and I realize that it’s because I’m touching him. I don’t stop, though. I run my finger right down his jaw. The small stubble feels nice under my finger. I swear he leans into my touch for the briefest of moments.
“Sorry.” I drop my hand, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable. Great. He’s probably going to think I’m some sort of weirdo now. I mean, more than he already does.
“Just caught me off guard. It’s fine if you want to touch me. Have at it.” His words surprise me.
I’m not sure if he’s teasing me or not. My brother always says I’m not good at picking up on when he’s being sarcastic. We’re only a few years apart, but it might as well be a decade with how different we are from one another.
“Ouch!” I whimper when he applies alcohol to the biggest cut. He leans down and blows on it. Holy smokes. I suck in a loud breath and try to press my thighs together as a rush of unexpected need hits me. Mateo stops me from closing them, only making the need intensify.
“Don’t,” he orders. “I’m not done, and it will hurt if you press the cut against your other leg.”
“Right.” Instead, I press my hands to my cheeks and take deep breaths, but it doesn’t help the ache. He puts a bandage over the cut before rising to his feet.
“Milly.” He wraps his hands around my wrist and pulls them down. “You okay?”
“I think so.” I nod. “Just a lot of feelings.”
“You’ve been through a lot.”
“I’m tired.”
“Then you should sleep.”
“Sleep sounds nice. I have a big test and….” I trail off. “I’m not going to be able to take my test.” I realize. “Oh no, my backpack.”
“Not something you need to worry about tonight. You have a very reasonable excuse to miss a test.”
“Yeah.” I suppose I do.
They aren’t going to flunk me out. At least, I’m guessing they won’t. Somehow my brother has always had perfect grades, but I never see him studying. I know he’s not brilliant or crazy smart even if I don’t understand half of his sarcasm. I’m guessing the money my family gives the school has a lot to do with how he does so well. I know the donations must be pretty significant since the library bears my family name.