He came around and opened her door, unsnapped her seatbelt, and lifted her into his arms.
“I really can walk.”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
She giggled, wrapped her arms around his neck, and laid her head on his shoulder.
Within a minute, he had her sitting on the sofa, and her shoes pulled off and set aside. He turned on the fireplace. “Stay there. I need to get a few things.”
She leaned back. “Okay.”
He came back with a box with a red cross on it and a bowl of warm water. He reached for her and stood her in front of him. He unsnapped her pants.
She grabbed ahold of his hands. “Wait. What are you doing?”
“I need the pants off so that I can take care of your legs.”
“I can roll my pants legs up.”
He shook his head. “They’re too tight. Baby, nothing is going to happen. I’m just going to take care of you. I swear to you, you have nothing to fear from me, ever. I would never take something from you or make you do something you weren’t ready for.”
Aleena studied his expression for a moment and then released his hands.
“Good girl,” he praised her and then effortlessly pulled her pants down and off, being careful with her knees, leaving her in pink panties and her white silk top.
He sat her back down and then reached for the washcloth. He wrung it out and started on her face where there was a bit of blood and dirt still evident. From there, he went to her legs and started working on the dried blood.
“I don’t know if you noticed, but your pants are trash.”
She straightened. “Really? Darn, I really liked them.”
“I’ll buy you a new pair.”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve got plenty of pants. I’ve got almost twenty.”
He grinned. The women in the past he’d dated would have thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes in a packed closet and still think they needed more.
He continued to wash away the blood, concentrating really hard on keeping his gaze on her knees and not the junction of her thighs and pink panties.
He wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
“If you’re hot, turn off the fireplace.”
He bit his tongue to keep from blurting out. It wasn’t the fire making him hot, it was her pussy a foot from his face.
“I’m fine. Okay, they are clean,” he said and then turned around for some antibiotic cream and bandages.
She looked over his shoulder at the box. “Do you have any pretty ones?”
He chuckled. “No, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll make sure I get some.”
He got a fresh bowl of water and washed her hands off. He looked over the small hand he had cradled in his palm. “I think these are fine.”
“But, I think I should have a Band-Aid on this.” She pointed out a dark-red scratch on her hand that still bled a little. “Don’t you?”
He bit his tongue to keep from laughing at how serious she was. “I think you’re right.” He put a Band-Aid on her hand. “Any other places I missed?”
She shook her head and smiled. “You’d make an excellent doctor.”
He couldn’t prevent the laugh that burst from his throat. He hated blood and had previously passed out when he’d seen something gruesome, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.
“I’ll be right back.” He came back with one of his shirts and a pair of socks. “This will have to do until we get some clothes for you.”
“You could just take me home. I’m planning on wearing my pants home.”
“It will hurt your knees. You’ll wear this shirt. Now, I need to feed you.”
“Okay. I am hungry, and then I’ll go home.”
He didn’t say anything. He made her lie down on a pillow and then covered her up with a blanket he’d brought from the bedroom.
She giggled. “You’re acting like I’m sick.”
He crouched by her head and smoothed the hair from her face. “I just want you to rest. Can you do that for me?”
She nodded slowly.
He could feel her gaze follow him as he went into the kitchen.
“Dammit,” he hissed under his breath. He’d gone through all his cupboards and refrigerator, and there was nothing. Screw it. I’ll just order in.
He walked back in with a sheepish look on his face. “I don’t have any food.”
Her eyes widened. “None? Why?”
He sat down at her hip. “Because I don’t eat here, and I never cook.”
“Then what were you going to make me?” she asked with a smile.
“I was going to make you scrambled eggs. I didn’t think I could screw that up to bad, but I decided on take-out.”
She laughed.
“I’m having something delivered. I hope you like Chinese?”
“I love it.”
“Good.”
He maneuvered her into sitting, sat where her head had been lying, and then pulled her onto his lap.
“What are you doing?”
He briefly closed his eyes. “Holding you.”
“Why?” she asked as she looked up at him.
“Because I want to,” he said simply.
She snorted.
“While we wait for the food, I want to talk about a few things.”
She got more comfortable against his chest. “Okay.”
“Would you mind it if I pick you up after work every day?”
Her eyes widened. “What? We haven’t even had a date.”
“We could count the other night. We sat and talked and had chocolate milk in your apartment.”
He smiled when she laughed.
“But it doesn’t matter. I want us to get to know one another, and I have a strong urge to take care of you.”
She rolled her eyes. “We hardly know each other. I think it’s
