“Do you not feel safe in my arms?” His voice dropped to a sexy rumble.
The black of his pupils almost eclipsed the slate of his irises, and his nostrils flared. My gaze travelled back up to his. I was reluctant to admit that I felt incredibly safe with him at that moment. But the words slipped from my mouth on a breath. “I do.”
His mouth parted and his minty breath rushed across my face at his sharp exhale. I felt the thunder of his pulse through the side of my ribcage, pressed to his heart. The rhythm of my own, a match for his. I refrained from squirming, but the energy pulsing through us made it hard to stay still.
Dragging my eyes away, I looked up at a cockatoo squawking its good mornings at a deafening pitch. I drew in a breath, and Brad’s clean scent. “Granny likes creamy French dishes with wine.”
He waited a few seconds before replying. “Sounds delicious. I’ll enjoy the challenge.”
“We should have all the stuff we need. I did some shopping last night.” While I was avoiding you.
“Thank you for thinking ahead. There’ll be no shopping for you today, anyway. We need to get some ice on that ankle.”
I kicked my leg out to inspect my puffy ankle with its angry, red hue. “I don’t think it’s that bad.” I’d forgotten about it, actually. Huh.
I felt Brad change direction, and noticed that we were back home. I started to remove my hands from around his neck, not wanting him to tackle the stairs with my extra weight. His arms tightened around me, his eyes flashing a warning.
“Put me down, I’m too heavy.”
He scoffed. “No, you’re not.”
He began ascending the stairs. I was relieved to hear his breath pick up. It meant he was human, at least. Putting me down on the bench seat beside the door, he got out his keys. My hands gripped the seat as I leaned forward, preparing to follow him in.
“Uh uh.” He scowled and folded me in his arms, drawing a huff of annoyance from my chest. “Would you just let me take care of you?”
“I can look after myself. I’ve been doing it for a while now.”
“I know that, but I want to look after you. It’s my fault that you’re hurt.”
I purred like a cat on the inside, feeling giddy and tingly where we touched. All sorts of alarms went off in my brain as it struggled to regain dominance. I didn’t like it. I’m a fucking liar. I ached to hand over control of my body to this man. Stop it, stop it, stop it! He was a nice, genuine, caring guy. He’d do this for anybody.
I suddenly found myself on the couch, with my calf cradled in his warm palm, as he placed a couple of cushions underneath my ankle. His hand slid slowly off my leg, the feel of his calloused skin sending tingles shooting straight to my centre. I wriggled my bottom in embarrassment, certain that my cheeks were blazing. I hoped he couldn’t see it.
He put two more cushions under my back, and pushed my shoulders down, staring into my eyes. When his eyes fell to my mouth, my pulse fluttered in my neck. The tingles intensified and spread to my breasts. My thin thread of control threatened to snap, as I refrained from squirming and letting out a mortifying moan. The pain in my ankle only added to the cataclysm. I was so close to unravelling.
Warm palm. Arms around my body. Eyes on my mouth. Freckled face. Hazardous Brad.
I watched his back retreat, as he presumably went to get some ice. When he disappeared, I threw my head back into the softness of the cushion and let out a loud sigh.
His face reappeared around the corner. “Did you say something?”
My neck cracked as I yanked my head up, eyes wide. The tension ratcheted up with his piercing eyes aimed at me. “Nope, no. Nothing.” How many times do you want to say it?
“Hmm. Okay, back in a tick.” His head disappeared again.
I lay back gazing at the ceiling, trying to calm my lascivious thoughts and my raging hormones. It sucked to be human. To be at the mercy of visceral reactions and processes. I wished I could transcend the flesh. I knew this man was going to lead me into trouble, and I knew I’d happily follow because I was a stupid, weak woman. Damn it. I wanted to punch myself. I was so angry for allowing him to get so close to me. How much longer would I be able to hold him off?
He came back with an ice pack wrapped in a tea towel. I snatched it from him before he could put his hands on me again. “Thanks,” I muttered, avoiding his eyes.
“No worries. I’m really sorry. The last thing I want to do is hurt you in any way.” His smile didn’t quite work.
My heart plunged into my pounding ankle. I think you might be the only person who could fracture me into tiny pieces and leave me alive. My lips curved up, copying his sad attempt. “It’s okay. It was an accident.”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Do you want the TV on? The ice should be left on for twenty minutes and then off for twenty. What about painkillers? You want some?” There goes his hand.
Bulging bicep. Adorable Brad.
“There’s probably nothing worth watching on a Sunday morning, unless you’re a kid.”
“Cartoons are good at any age.” He switched on the kid’s channel, and we ended up laughing at the juvenile antics of Wile E. Coyote and the gang for an hour. Without fail, every twenty minutes he attended to the ice pack. He must have been
