But it doesn’t stop me from looking. Black letters in an almost medieval font are written just above the waistband of his jeans spelling out Remember. The lower part of the letters dip beneath his waistband and my fingers twitch as I imagine tracing them. What does he want to remember? Another tattoo, some intricate roses that should have looked too feminine, twine up the other side of his torso. On him, they’re beautiful and only add to his appeal. I can’t tell what the ink on his arm is as he’s still lounging as if sunbathing on a beach instead of being nursed by someone with very little medical knowledge.
The ripples in his stomach tense while I continue cleaning. I never really wanted to taste a man’s skin before but I want to run my tongue over those ridges and follow the dark line of hair down. The lightest scattering of hair over his pecs begs for me to splay my hands across them and touch his flat nipples. A smile tugs at my lips. How would he react if I started licking and caressing him?
“What’s so funny?”
I peer up to see him watching me closely. I’m probably blushing again. I can’t believe I just got caught eyeing him up. “Nothing.”
I cast aside the wipe and pull open the gauze pad. Lining it up with the scratch, I place it gently over and press down the sides, eliciting a faint groan from him. “There.” I study my handiwork and meet his intense gaze again. What now? Do I send him on his way after he saved my life? I’ve never had a hero before. I’m not really sure what to do with him.
“Can I get you anything?”
“A drink would be nice.”
“I don’t have any alcohol.”
“Water will be just fine,” he assures me.
“Water, sure. Give me a minute.” Expelling a breath, I gather up the rubbish and carry it out to the kitchen. After I dump it in the trash, I wash my hands and dab some water on my heated neck and chest. I’d wash my face too but I don’t really want to ruin my make-up. I’ll look like a member of Kiss for one if I do, but I’m sure he sees too much as it is. Don’t need him seeing the real me too.
I grab a glass from the cupboard, rinse it out and fill it. Then I place it on the counter and rest my hands either side of the sink so I can take a few breaths before going back to face him. Just a little more time and I’ll get him out of my life. I’m not an animal for Godsakes. I can be in the company of a shirtless man without jumping on him and begging him to take me.
Yeah, you’ve got this. I snatch the glass and head back to the bedroom. “Oh God,” I whisper.
I haven’t got this.
He’s asleep. The sounds of heavy breaths and those parted lips threaten to send me to the floor. I step in, place down the drink and study him. My heart beats like a kick drum and I swallow heavily. His arms are still sprawled, one sneaking onto the other pillow. His chest rises and falls with each deep inhalation. The way his relaxed jaw and closed eyes make him look almost angelic is fascinating. Before I realize what I’m doing, I touch his lips.
I recoil back and retreat a few paces. What the hell am I going to do with him? I glance at the clock. It’s heading on for morning and I can hardly kick him out after what he did. While the car might have only grazed him, who knows what would have happened if it had hit me. He might really have saved my life.
With a resigned sigh, I tug the duvet from underneath his legs and draw it over him. Hunter mumbles but shows no sign of waking. I swing my gaze between the couch and the other side of the bed. Either way I won’t get much sleep. Perhaps I’m kidding myself—maybe I just want to enjoy lying next to a man—but I decide to sleep on the bed in case he has hurt himself more than we thought.
I drag off my jeans and fling them in the laundry along with his bloodied T-shirt. My nightshirt is under the pillow his head is resting on so I dig out a T-shirt and some of my less skimpy underwear. I won’t sleep anyway so I can probably be up and dressed before he even awakes. I eye the polka dotted panties and chuckle to myself. These would really ruin my image if he saw them but better these than the lace thong I’m wearing.
Aware of the gorgeous man who could awake at any moment, I flick off the bedroom light and put the T-shirt and panties on in the dark. The rest of my clothes end up dumped somewhere near the laundry basket and I slide into bed, grateful he at least chose to pass out on the side I don’t sleep on.