“Where do you want it?” I asked, holding out the ice, trying hard not to gasp at the sight of him. I scrunched up my nose at the smell of whiskey wafting off him. Where has he been?
He sat up, his bloodshot eyes taking me in. “Why are you crying?”
“No reason. Sometimes I just cry.”
Worst excuse ever, but all I had at the moment.
Sebastian raised a brow at me and took the ice. Guess my poker face really needed some work.
“I’m going to clean up,” he announced and pulled himself back to standing with the help of the dining table.
I watched him limp out of the kitchen and wondered what kind of man was living in my house.
The shower turned on, and I was still standing in the same spot when it shut off again. Since I really didn’t want him to pass out in the bathroom, I decided I should check on him.
I stood outside the door, unsure if I should knock or call out to Sebastian. Or maybe this was a terrible idea and I shouldn’t do anything except go back to the kitchen.
My hand made the decision for me when it lifted and knocked on the door.
A muffled curse came through the door and then it opened, showing Sebastian only wearing a towel. His hair was wet, and water was dripping off his twenty-pack. I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t get myself to lift my gaze.
And what self-respecting woman would when faced with all that’s currently in my line of sight?
“Do you need the bathroom?” he asked, his voice scratchy.
I lifted my head and took in his face. For the first time I noticed the circles under his eyes, the slump in his shoulders.
“Just making sure you didn’t pass out,” I said, keeping my eyes above his neck. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to let them wander again.
“I’m fine.” He turned back around, dismissing me. “It takes more than a little beating to make me pass out.”
There was a long cut along his back, and he had a big purple bruise on his side.
“You can’t clean your back by yourself. Now move. I’m helping.” I pushed my way into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
“What are you—” he started to say, but I brushed past him and went to the medicine cabinet.
I had everything I’d need to clean his cuts, but I wasn’t sure if he needed stitches.
“Did you fall off your bike?” I asked, taking out cotton pads, gauze, disinfectant, and dressings.
“That question is insulting,” he growled.
I ignored his mood and arranged all my supplies on the vanity. “Turn around.”
When he didn’t move, I lifted my gaze and met his angry glare. “Turn. Around.”
He still didn’t move. Unfortunately for him, I was feeling like pissing someone off after my talk with Malena. I ignored his death glare and grabbed the disinfectant and a few cotton pads, then stepped around him, facing his back.
The gasp I was trying to hold in earlier finally escaped.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said, not moving away like I expected him to.
“You just keep telling yourself that,” I said and got to work. “This might sting.”
He didn’t so much as flinch when I doused his back in antiseptic. The wound wasn’t as deep as I first thought. It looked like someone had dragged a knife across his back but didn’t get a chance to go very deep.
“Almost done. Can you pass me the dressing?” I said, holding out my hand.
Another sigh, but he leaned forward and handed it to me. Our fingers brushed, and a very inconvenient tingle shot through my body.
I finished in silence. Once I was done, I paused to admire my work.
“You finished or you want to stare at it for a bit longer?” Sebastian asked, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror when I looked up.
“I’m good. Just had to make sure I remembered how long it took to patch you up. You know, for next time I feel like hurting you. This image will stop me from so much as stepping on your toe.”
“Noted,” he said, not sounding angry for once.
I stepped back, wringing my hands in front of me. “Guess I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he responded, his hungry gaze eating me up.
I stumbled back, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention.
Besides, there was still some cleaning to be done, so I scurried back to the kitchen. It was just after eleven, but I wasn’t tired thanks to the adrenaline swirling through my blood following the bathroom encounter.
Sebastian came in a few minutes later wearing tracksuit pants and no shirt. There were only a few bruises on his chest, and if I hadn’t seen his back, I’d think he was fine. Don’t judge; I only looked to make sure he was okay. Well, mostly.
“Why are you cleaning in the middle of the night?” he asked, getting a glass of water out of the freshly scrubbed cupboard.
“The house was dirty,” I said, eloquent as ever.
“Right.”
“How’s the water?” I asked.
He frowned but flinched when it pulled on a cut on his eyebrow that I hadn’t noticed before.
“That doesn’t look like you cleaned it,” I said, pointing to his face. “And you should put something on it to hold it together.”
“I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Stay there. I’ll get the disinfectant,” I said, ignoring his growl.
He was leaning against the kitchen island when I came back, his arms crossed, his jaw tight.
I stopped in front of him and reached up to his face. I couldn’t stretch up enough to reach his brow without falling against him. And he wasn’t helping at all, making my task much harder.
“Do you mind leaning down?” I asked through gritted teeth after he only stared at me.
He didn’t move. “I told you it doesn’t need cleaning.”
“And I told you it does.”
Reading my determined expression correctly, he
