Those lips parted again, the bottom one lush and tempting. The top crisscrossed with a tiny white scar through the perfect cupid’s bow. Her breath hit my skin, the spice of the tea and toast floating through the air, tempting me with the sweetness hanging on its coattails.
But instead of leaning in, instead of tasting that tantalizing mix of sweet and spice, I straightened, shifting so I could reach around her and unzip the back of her dress. It parted, revealing a narrow strip of black lace, one that matched the glimpse of what I’d seen covering her pussy, disappearing between the tempting curves of her ass, and making me want to forget all about my promise to not look. Especially, when her breath caught as I undid the hooks.
Smooth, golden skin. Lithe muscles. A freckle just there, calling for my mouth.
Slamming my eyes shut, I moved back to the floor. “Can you get them down your shoulders?”
“Yes.” I felt her shift on the bed, my imagination going wild, my cock hard and pressing against the zipper of my slacks. Which made me feel like the biggest pervert on the planet—her being injured, drugged, and exhausted. But it wasn’t like I was going to take advantage of her.
I just . . . wanted to.
See? Fucking pervert.
Keeping my lids firmly shut, I held up the shirt. “Ready for this?”
A sigh. Then, “No.”
“No?”
The air in front of my face shifted, but still I didn’t open my eyes.
“You’re really not looking, are you?”
“No,” I said, but I also felt duty-bound to admit, “Though, I had to look a little when I undid your zipper and bra.” A beat. “Also, I really want to look, so take that how you want.
Silence.
Then . . . laughter. “You really are the most extraordinary man.”
“That’s the drugs talking,” I deadpanned, waving the shirt. “Ready for this, now?”
“No.”
I froze, waited for more of an explanation.
Eventually, she sighed again and said, “Turns out, I can’t actually lift my arm to bring the strap down. Any way you can not look while helping me?”
No, I fucking couldn’t.
I mean, I would. But also . . . I couldn’t. Fucking hell.
Cock throbbing, I carefully opened my eyes, focused deliberately on her face, and I got up on my knees, bringing our bodies close together, my mouth near enough to hers that I could have easily closed the distance between us, have felt her lush, plump lips on mine, tasted that spice chased by sweet.
But I wasn’t a fucking asshole.
So instead of kissing her, I held steady, locked my gaze on hers, and I reached for the straps of her dress and bra.
The moment my fingers brushed the silken skin of her shoulders, a groan crept into the back of my throat, threatened to bubble free, to land in the air between us. Swallowing it down, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand—getting Tammy naked.
No. Dumbass.
My task was to not hurt her as I got her naked.
Stop thinking about her naked.
But that was becoming increasingly hard to do as I eased the straps down, as I kept my eyes on hers, as I continued coaxing the material off her shoulders, along her arms, carefully over the bandage.
And then beyond her elbows, slipping her wrists through, her hands, her fingers free.
Topless.
She was topless, and all I had to do was glance down and I would see a pair of what I knew would be absolutely glorious breasts.
I didn’t though, just snagged the T-shirt up from the bed without moving my eyes from hers; the hazel depths deepened to a russet lined with emerald, rings of dark gray at their edges, burning into mine. I fumbled for a few moments, trying to make sure the correct part was forward, and then ultimately deciding it didn’t matter, and slipping the shirt over her head.
“Thanks,” she whispered, lifting her uninjured arm through the hole and attempting to lift her injured one. Then stopping with a wince.
“Here,” I murmured, still soaking in the heat of her eyes, and reached for her wrist and elbow, carefully bringing it up, releasing one hand and tugging the material down. The latter was my mistake because when I reached for the hem of the shirt, the back of my hand brushed over her nipple.
We both gasped.
I swallowed hard, my head going a little fuzzy from the contact.
Then I cleared my throat. “Sorry.”
“I-it’s okay.”
It wasn’t. Neither of us was okay, but I didn’t say anything further, just gently coaxed her arm through the hole, pausing to roll the short sleeve of the shirt up beyond her bandage wrapped high on her arm so it wouldn’t chafe before pulling the shirt down to cover her.
Then I girded my loins, wrapped an arm around her waist, and lifted her up to her feet. Either the drugs were hitting or the exhaustion had overwhelmed her, because her body just leaned loosely against mine, her forehead resting against my collarbone, and I used my free hand to coax the dress to the floor, bringing the shirt along with it.
“Can you lift one leg?” I asked, reaching for the sweats.
Tammy didn’t say anything, just leaned heavier against me, raising her foot enough for me to slip one leg of the sweats on. Then the other. A moment later they were around her waist.
Threatening to fall off her waist.
I helped her sit, reached for the tie.
Her lips parted again, her breath sliding out. “Tal—”
“Shh, sweetheart,” I murmured, making quick work of tying it, before lifting her up, yanking the blankets down, and then tucking her into my bed.
On my side.
Her hair fanned out on my pillow.
My cock still throbbing.
“Talbot?” she asked again, her eyes sliding shut.
“I’ll leave a glass of water here,”
