Page 15 of XOXO, Valentina

Frodo meowed, demanding my attention. I rubbed my hand across his soft fur, distracting myself from Mr. Morales’s intense gaze.

“Frodo,” he said. “Leave the lady alone. I need to doctor her.”

The phrase conjured up all sorts of delicious fantasies.

I followed him down the hall to the bathroom.

“Don’t worry.” He bent and rummaged under the sink. “I’m certified in first aid.”

“It’s only a scrape.”

I tried not to stare as he reached into the back of the cabinet, but his sweatpants were doing wonders for his butt. A small swatch of bronzed skin showed between his sweatshirt and the waistband of his pants. The tiny glimpse of his bare skin sent a ripple of desire through me. Great Scott! I was turned on by looking at his lower back. What would I do if I saw his naked chest?

“What is it?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at me.

“Nothing,” I said. My cheeks felt like they’d caught fire. “You’re just a little overdressed for the weather.” It was the first thing I thought of, and it tumbled out before I could stop myself. He was wearing too many layers for a run in early spring in the Carolinas. Sweatpants, a shirt, and a sweatshirt were overkill. He’d already tossed his knit hat and gloves. “It’s not that cold.”

He went back to his search. “It’s freezing outside. Aren’t you underdressed?” He looked over his shoulder at my bare legs.

The heat of his gaze warmed me from the inside out. I had a serious case of the swoons for Mr. Morales, and the tight quarters of his bathroom weren’t helping things. Luckily, the counter was right behind me. I leaned my hip against the cold marble as his eyes scorched over my legs. I would have thought he was flirting again, but then I remembered my bloody knee. He was probably looking at my injury, and I was standing there ogling a scant centimeter of skin above his waistband.

I reached over to turn on the faucet. What was wrong with me? Cleaning up a skinned knee was second nature to me. I’d had plenty of practice.

He stood and grabbed a washcloth before I could. His eyes danced with mischief as he moved closer, invading my personal space. I breathed in the musky scent of his sweat. Even his sweat was intoxicating.

“Let me,” he said, pushing my hands out of the way under the faucet.

He was just being nice. He wasn’t flirting with me. So why did my heart race when our hands touched? My heart definitely thought he was flirting. The most tender flesh between my legs thought he was flirting.

He pointed at the toilet. “Sit,” he said.

My sprinting heart slowed. There was nothing less sexy than sitting on a toilet. Ordering my lady parts to calm down, I took a seat. This was a far cry from the romantic scene I’d crafted in my mind of Mr. Morales ravishing me.

He wrung out the washcloth and squatted. “What’s so funny?” he asked, glancing up at my face.

“When I woke up this morning, I didn’t picture this happening.”

He bent over my knee, carefully bathing it with the warm, wet cloth. I hissed when the water stung my cut. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it was strange to have someone doctoring me. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken care of me.

“Almost done,” he said.

I leaned back and held my breath as he sprayed antiseptic on the cut. His fingers were strong, but gentle. He leaned closer and blew on my cut the way my mom used to when I was little. My heart raced when I imagined him tracing a path up my thigh. A bolt of desire shot through me as the soft puff of his breath cooled the sting from the antiseptic.

As he peeled open a bandage and applied it to my knee, I held in a sigh.

“Take that off,” he said.

“What?” My eyes snapped open, and I saw he was pointing at my ruined shirt. A bolt of lust zigzagged straight to my core.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw a scrap of brightly colored fabric hanging from the shower curtain rod.Kaitlyn’s missing bikini top.

My racing libido slammed to a halt. This man was a player with multiple women in his life. He already had a blonde and a redhead. Now he wanted to add a brunette to the mix? No thanks.

I jumped to my feet. “I’ve got to go,” I said, pushing past him.

“Wait.” He came into the hall after me. “Your elbow. I wasn’t finished.”

I grabbed my gloves and hurried to the door. “Yes, you were,” I said.

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