Page 76 of Risky Passion

“You’re tough.” He offered a faint smile. “I’ll give you that.”

I snorted. “This is nothing compared to crashing a plane and being chased by armed drug smugglers through a croc-infested swamp.”

His smile widened, revealing a tiny dimple in his left cheek. “Exactly. Very tough. And brave.”

As he skillfully wrapped the bandage around my arm, I couldn’t ignore the flutter in my stomach. When was the last time a man had touched me so tenderly? I couldn’t even remember. And I don’t think I have ever been this close to someone as ruggedly handsome as Jaxson. My love life was pathetic. Maybe getting shot down wasn’t so bad after all . . . not when I got rescued by a smoldering hero.

Jesus, what is wrong with me.

His eyes lingered on mine for a moment longer than necessary. I was filthy, covered in mud and sweat, and my hair was a tangled mess, but the way he looked at me wasn’t with disgust or pity. It was something else. Something that made my insides tingle and my nipples harden.

“What?” I asked, trying to ignore the butterflies dancing in my stomach.

His eyes searched mine with such intensity, it was like he could see right into my soul. “Nothing,” he said, and as he gently wrapped tape around my arm to secure the bandage, I forgot how to breathe.

Onyx barked, breaking the moment.

Jaxson glanced toward the tree line, his expression hardening again. “We have to go.” He rested a hand on my good shoulder. “You good?”

“Yep. Ready to rock and roll.”

He helped me pull my shirt back on, and as he did up the buttons, the brush of his fingers sent a rush of heat through me, waking parts of my body that had forgotten how to feel a long time ago.

The moment passed in a flash, but as he stepped back, he reached for my wounded hand. “We better sort this out now.”

I tilted my head. “What do you mean,sort this out?”

“Your finger’s dislocated. You can’t leave it like this.”

“Yeah, but . . . ” I scrunched my nose. “How?”

He gently turned my hand over, studying the underside. “I can fix it. My brother Whitney patched up Parker and me all the time after footy games . . . dislocated fingers, gashes, busted noses.”

My stomach turned. “Yeah,Whitneyhas medical training.”

“I’ve done this a few times too. Trust me, the swelling’s only going to get worse.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Oh my god. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Tory, it’s best to do it now before it locks up.” He cupped my cheek.

I dropped my hand, opening my eyes. “Oh, man. It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?”

He offered a small, apologetic smile. “Yeah. But only for a second.”

Before I could lose my nerve, I nodded.

He gently gripped my hand, bracing the joint. “Okay. On three. One?—.”

He didn’t wait for two.

There was a sharp jerk and a sickening snap. Pain ripped through my finger, and I howled, and as my body shuddered a low sob burst from my throat.

“Sorry,” he murmured, turning my hand to check the alignment. “That was the best way. I promise.”

“That was fucked!” I blurted, wiping away my stupid tears.

“Sorry,” he repeated, and as our eyes met, something in his softened. A warmth fluttered through me, catching me off-guard.

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