“Let me check,” she insisted.
Something flared in his eyes and her skin shivered, breaking out in goose bumps. It occurred to her that he was probably not the kind of man accustomed to being ordered around by a woman, unless, of course, it was a female corrections officer.
He seemed like the kind of man that took charge. Her gaze skimmed the immense breadth of his shoulders, the broadness of his chest, the way his biceps bulged. She had a sudden image of him with a woman. In a bedroom. Well, on a bed. She snapped her gaze off his body with a mental curse. So. Wrong.
Her gaze fell to his hands. They were big, blunt--nailed with long tapering fingers, his wrists solid with a light spattering of hair on the backs. She could visualize those hands, guiding, demanding. She blinked, forcing the disturbing image away.
There couldn’t be too many -people ready to oppose him, but this wasn’t a world where he was free to take charge.
Fortified with that reminder, she moved in for his shirt again, but then stopped, watching him. He arched an eyebrow at her, clearly questioning her pause. Firming her resolve, she gripped his shirt and tugged it up. He lifted his arms so she could pull his shirt over his head and drop it down beside him.
He brought his hands onto the bed beside him, palms flat on the mattress, sitting bare--chested in front of her. His body was ridiculous. Even bearing bruises, he looked like a well--honed warrior.
She was a nurse. She’d seen him like this before. He was a prisoner. A criminal. He shouldn’t affect her. In that moment, she vowed to take her sister up on her offer. She needed to go out on an actual date with a man. It had been too long since she actually kissed anyone. Even longer since she had sex. This was simply a case of a starving libido.
She narrowed her eyes and studied his body with what she hoped was clinical analysis. She shook her head at the dark bruises discoloring his ribs. Bringing her hands up, she ran her fingers over his smooth, warm flesh. “Still tender? You shouldn’t have removed your bandages.” He gave a small grunt as she pressed a fraction harder.
“They inhibited my movement.”
“You get to move a lot in segregation?” she countered.
“I like to stay busy.” A corner of his mouth kicked up. He was mocking her.
She lowered her hands from him and handed him his shirt. “You should take it easy for a few weeks. No strenuous activity.”
His lips smirked like she had said something amusing.
“Why do I sense you’re not going to take my advice?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t dream of disobeying you, Nurse Davis.” He shrugged back into his shirt, still smirking, still mocking. Shirt fully on, he slid off the bed and dropped to his feet. “Are we done now?”
She stepped back. “Yes. I guess that’s it. I’ll send for a guard.”
“Thanks.”
Pushing the tray ahead of her, she sent a glance over her shoulder. No one was ever in a rush to leave the HSU. She had learned that much already. Everyone was happy to linger on one of the gray--blanketed cots, preferring it to hanging out in the general population. But Callaghan seemed almost anxious to get out of here. Maybe because he would be returning to the masses. Maybe because he didn’t like being around doctors. Or other sick -people.
Except he wasn’t the squeamish sort. No. She had the strongest sense that he didn’t like her. That he was trying to get away from her. Which was ridiculous. A scary guy like him wouldn’t be afraid of anything or anyone.
Least of all her.
KNOX LIFTED HIS shoulders and rolled them in a small circle as he entered the yard, inhaling the outside air. Hopefully he wouldn’t have another visit to the hole or the HSU for a while. He knew better than to waste time wishing he would never return to seg. It was an eventuality. A reality in here that he couldn’t escape—-especially as a captain of Reid’s crew. Reid had amassed one of the biggest gangs in the Rock, with as many connections inside as outside, but that meant anyone that wasn’t one of them wanted to tear them down.
Above all he was a realist. But hopefully he wouldn’t have to visit the HSU again and suffer Nurse Davis’s hands all over him. He’d rather go straight to the hole over that.
He inhaled, relishing the sweat--laced air and open space of the yard, trying to ignore the hint of pears still clinging inside his nose.
He could breathe again without a sense of the walls closing in on him. Even if he had to constantly watch his back out here he preferred this. It was better than being stuck in a smothering, airless room, his sanity ebbing away bit by bit.