She came back into the room and sat on the edge of the sofa just out of his reach, placing the first-aid kit on the low coffee table. “I love Kenny Chesney. He’s got the best voice.”
For a fleeting moment, he wondered just who the heck this Kenny person was and how he could find him and beat him to a pulp. Then when she started humming along to the music, he realized she was talking about the singer on the CD.
And wasn’t that just the weirdest reaction to have? If he were human, he’d have defined the feeling as jealousy, but that was an unknown emotion for an Argonaut.
He managed a wan smile.
She glanced at his face with a look of skepticism; then her gaze ran down to his legs and back up again quickly. A blush crept across her cheeks, one that warmed his blood all over again.
“You”—she cleared her throat—“are going to have to take off the pants if you want me to, ah, look at your leg.”
He fought to keep from grinning as he rose slowly from the couch, making sure to wince as if his leg was definitely hurting, and slid his hands to the top button of his jeans. Her eyes followed and froze, intent on watching what he was about to reveal.
A wicked thought occurred. And blood rushed to his groin.
Anything I want.
He popped the top button and hesitated. “I’m still a little weak, meli. I think I’m going to need your help with this. Give me your hand.”
CHAPTER SIX
He wants you to take off his pants.
Casey caught Theron’s meaning, but his words were muffled, almost as if from a dream. The blood roaring in her ears made it hard to hear his voice, but the sinful look in his eyes told her exactly what he wanted.
She wasn’t sure what made her stand, but she thanked God her legs didn’t give out. After swallowing hard, she wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs and stepped closer until she was heady from all that testosterone and sweet male scent.
She could already see from the bulge behind his zipper that he was aroused, and she’d wanted to know just what he looked like erect, hadn’t she? But if she did this, she’d be crossing a line from Florence Nightingale to Naughty Nurse that she wouldn’t be able to retrace.
Oh, God. Was she actually going to do this?
Her gaze skimmed his hard body, from his growing erection up his toned abs to those impressive pecs and finally to his rugged face.
No, he wasn’t classically handsome. His features were too prominent, his jaw too harsh, his cheekbones way too chiseled to be considered gorgeous. And there was a dangerous look to his dark eyes, to his entire being, that made her feel as if she were toying with a…god.
The thought hit her out of nowhere, but it fit. He looked like a large, dark, menacing biker god who’d ride her hard and put her away wet without a second thought.
No strings. No emotional entanglement. No regret.
She’d never bought into the whole one-night-stand thing before, but there was something about this man that pulled at her. Enticed her. Challenged her to take one small, sinful taste and say the hell with the rest of the world.
Her conversation with Dana flitted back through her mind.
I don’t have a type.
And if you did, it definitely wouldn’t be the bad-boy biker type.
Yeah. She was going to do this. Screw predictability and walking on the safe side. For tonight at least, she wanted to do something completely wild and totally out of character.
She eased closer and lifted her hand. Her fingers brushed his as she touched his waistband. His hands fell away and he sucked in a breath as she popped the second button. And the third. And finally the fourth. She felt steel beneath the black cotton boxers she’d bought for him. Watched as his dark, hypnotic eyes blazed with an erotic light. And was filled with a confidence that swept through her out of nowhere.
Her skin warmed. She savored each brush of her fingers, each scrape of skin against cotton. A sweet ache settled between her thighs as she slid her hands into the waistband of his jeans and settled them on his strong, lean hips. Gently, and with her eyes still locked on his, she pushed down.
“Oraios,” he rasped.
She didn’t have a clue what he’d said, but she loved his husky voice, the lilt of his accent. She eased the denim down his hips and swallowed back a groan as it skimmed his impressive erection, which was very obviously struggling to be set free.
For a moment she wished she hadn’t thought to buy him underwear at all, then realized it might be a blessing. It was like unwrapping a gift. One that kept getting better with each layer removed.