Page 50 of It Never Was

His eyes drop to my legs, his free hand darts under one of my knees and he pulls it up towards his face. My ass slides to the edge of the counter and I brace myself with my unwounded hand. The position I am in is awkward and it causes my hanging leg to pull around Parker, trying not to fall off.

"This one too." His voice is flat, but the ticking of his jaw and the furrow of his brow causes my heart to jump. He is concerned, more than he needs to be.

"I'm fine. I can just grab the first aid after I clean up. I don't need Willow cleaning my mess for me." I pull my leg out of his hold, my hand leaving his as I scoot my ass off the smooth surface.

Parker's stance doesn't falter, and I have to slide against his muscular frame to get my feet on the ground. My feet don't make it to the floor. Parker's hands clasp on my thighs, pushing me back to the same place I just vacated. His fingertips are pressing firmly but gently as he keeps me in place.

"Sit. Down. Ryen."

My pulse speeds up at his demanding tone, it's a tone of dominance I have never heard before. Demanding yet comforting. His waist settles in between my knees. The heat radiates between his core and mine. I shift forward subconsciously. My body wants to be closer, but my mind catches my body and pulls back.

Fuck, I hope he didn't notice that!

His fingertips press deeper into my legs, my body lets out a shiver.

You fucking whore!

I straightened up, rubbing my sleeve across my lips to hide the beads of sweat that started to form. He grabs my hand back into his. His eyes looked over the cut once again.

"I'm gonna grab the first aid kit." He says, turning away to retrieve it. I watch his body take a few steps. Taking in the way his ass moves, how his toned arms swing by his side. The way his tousled bun on the top of his head sways as he walks. He turns back around after a few steps catching me off guard, I jump in reaction.

"Don't move out of that spot Ryen." His silky deep voice says, the corner of his mouth almost looks as if it starts to curl.

Parker returns with the first aid kit in hand along with a glass of water in the other.

"Here." He places the water next to me on the side that my unharmed hand is on, while taking my wounded one back into his.

"I am going to need to use tweezers to remove the glass, are you okay with that?" Parker's voice sounds softer now.

"Yeah, I mean it has to be done, no?" My eyes watching his hands reach into the first aid kit. His brows are furrowed in concentration.

Parker jumbles through the items in the kit with ease. Grabbing the plastic tweezers, he begins picking the few specks of glass out of my palm with such a calm demeanor. I can't help but watch him in awe, the patience, the attentiveness he has with every movement.

Once he is finished, he gives his handy work a slight nod, pleased with how he has bandaged my hand. Only then does he move on to my knee. Pulling my leggings up more than is comfortable right above my knee. I get self-conscious at that thought of him looking at my calves, bare. The leggings are digging into my skin causing them to look bigger than they actually are, the ping in my chest starts to spread and I want to hide. I watch his face as he carefully pulls a tiny piece of glass fragment from the cut on my knee. Watching to make sure his focus doesn't move up my leg to where my leggings meet my calf. My heart beats loudly in my chest, my palms grow clammy. I don't want him to look at me the way I look at me.

He strips the backing of a band aid and softly applies it to the now clean wound.

"All done." He starts to pull my leggings back down, his ghostly touch trailing along my skin. Goosebumps erupt down my spine.

His hands come under my armpits lifting me, once again, with more ease than I imagined. Setting me on my feet, I feel him looking down on me. I knew he was tall but looking up at him from this angle only intensifies it. He must be about six-feet four-inches minimum. I gaze up at him, not sure where to go from here.

What should I say? What do I do?

He just cleaned my cuts for me without even asking. I pull on my sleeves unsure of what to do now.

His eyes flicker to my fidgeting hands and quickly return to mine, his pupils growing larger. My back stiffens, my body waiting for his words. For the harsh words. I don't know what I did, but I braced myself anyways.

"What is that Ryen?" He gestures to my sleeves, or more specifically my wrists.

28

Parker

"It's nothing."

Ryen pulls down on her sleeves to cover the purple markings I just caught a glance at. I thought it was a shadow when I was cleaning up the cut on her hand earlier, but when she started to play with her sleeves, I got a better look at it being fully uncovered.

Bruises.

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