She set the tray on the table. “Sit down.”
Wincing a little, Zack lowered himself into the chair and leaned back. For the first time Emily was able to get a good look at the gunshot wound. The bullet had opened the skin and caused a deep gash a couple of inches above his navel. There was some swelling and bruising, but the bullet hadn’t entered his body. Relief poured through her when she realized it wasn’t life threatening.
“I think this is a superficial wound,” she said. “Like mine was.”
“Doesn’t feel superficial. Hurts like hell.”
“It could have been a lot worse.”
Her hands were shaking when she picked up the bottle of peroxide and a sterile gauze pad. Emily knew this was no time to be taken in by this man’s charms—all one million of them. But the sight of Zack Devlin slouched in that chair was enough to make any woman long to be reckless.
“This is probably going to hurt a little,” she said.
“It’s probably going to hurt a lot.”
She drizzled some peroxide over the wound, then began to clean it. Zack’s quick intake of breath told her it hurt. She could feel his abdominal muscles tensing.
“How bad?” he asked, his voice strained.
“It’s a deep graze. You could probably use a few stitches, but I think I can close it with a butterfly bandage.”
“Do what you need to do to keep me operational. Don’t worry about hurting me. I can handle it.”
But when she glanced up, she saw sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know this is painful.”
“It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as knowing you’re still having a hard time trusting me.”
Her hand stilled. “I don’t have the power to hurt you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said baldly.
Unable to meet his gaze, she stared at her hand, pale against the dark hair of his abdomen, surprised to see that it was shaking.
“You’re afraid that if you admit there’s something between us, you’ll be drawing some kind of parallel between you and what your father did.”
“The parallels are there,” she said.
“The circumstances are different. You’re a different person than he was, Emily.”
She needed to finish bandaging the wound so she could put some distance between them, but her fingers kept fumbling the gauze.
“Look at me,” he said gently.
“I just want to finish this,” she said, staring at the wound.
Somehow she managed to press the bandage into place. But her hands were still visibly shaking. She knew Zack had noticed. She could feel his eyes on her. The heat rising from his body. She could feel her own body responding to all of those things.
“Why are you shaking?” Putting his fingers beneath her chin, he forced her gaze to his. And then she was staring into his dark eyes. She could feel the tremors moving through her body. Her breaths coming short and fast. She didn’t know what was happening to her. All she knew was that no man had ever looked at her the way Zack Devlin did. No man had ever affected her the way he did. No man had ever made her want with such total and utter desperation.
“Trust yourself, Emily,” he said darkly. “Trust your heart. Trust me.”
She was standing over him, looking down. In a single smooth motion he reached up, set his hand behind her neck and pulled her mouth to his.
The pleasure was instant and intense. She didn’t even realize her knees had buckled until they hit the floor with a quiet thud. In the next instant he was out of the chair, pushing her back onto the Navajo rug and coming down on top of her.
His kisses stole her breath. Her body flamed with need. She could feel dampness spreading between her legs, the desire that was a sharp ache verging on pain.
“Who are you, Zack Devlin?” she whispered.
“I’m the man who will never hurt you. The man who would give his own life to keep you safe. If you believe anything about me, believe that.”
She believed him. There was no way he could look at her the way he did—kiss her the way he did—and not be telling the truth.
Pulling away slightly, he reached out and began unbuttoning her shirt. Neither of her previous two affairs had prepared her for the sensations coursing through her body or the emotions crowding into her heart. Deep inside she knew this was different. That this moment was profound. That it would change everything.
He worked the shirt from her shoulders. As he unfastened her bra, cold air whispered over her nipples as the scrap of cotton fell away.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly.