Page 43 of Baited

He took the first aid kit out from beneath the sink—he didn’t travel anywhere without being well equipped—and opened it. She peered over the edge of the kit.

“What’s in there?”

He pulled out some rubbing alcohol and swabs. “Everything I need. That gash looks pretty bad though, Rye.” Blood matted the soft blond locks near her temple and ear. He poured some alcohol on the swab and began wiping the scrapes.

Air sucked in through her clenched teeth. “Ouch, that stings.” She pulled her face out of reach, but he stopped her from moving with his free hand.

“I know, but it needs to be cleaned. You can have a nice hot shower when I’m done, okay? And then a burger and fries.”

“Are you bribing me with food?” She winced as he swiped over the cut on the side of her head. He mopped up the blood, then got another clean alcohol swab and cleaned it again.

“It’s the only tempting thing I have.”

Her tongue smoothed over her bruised lip. The movement shouldn’t have made him hard, shouldn’t have made him want to take that tongue in his mouth, to stretch her out on his bed and—

“I beg to differ,” she said softly.

Fire surged through him. Her eyes drifted from his face over his chest and down to his belt buckle. He groaned. “Don’t do that Rye. You don’t know what you’re signing up for.”

Her eyebrows rose. “A word of caution from you? When you’ve done nothing but tease and torment me since the moment I met you?”

“Tease and torment?” He snorted. “Honey, you have no idea.” He pressed the sopping swab to the cut. She cried out and tore away.

“Jeez, Ethan. That hurts.”

“Sorry.” He dropped the now red pad into the trash can and inched closer to her. “I need to have a good look at this, so hold still.” He brought his hands to her head and tilted it so the light hit the area of the gash. The cut ran vertically along her hairline, from below her temple to where her ear started. Shit. It was deep, but she might be able to get away without stitches.

“Is it bad?”

“It’s pretty deep. Do you know how you got it?”

“My head hit the window when my car hit the tree.”

“And it didn’t knock you out?”

She brought her fingers to the spot. “No. I was in too much of a hurry to get away.”

Adrenaline. His hands dropped to her bare shoulders, debris littered the thin material of her tank top. He scooped a lock of her hair in his hand, and found tiny pieces of glass tangled in the strands.

“You need to wash up. You have glass in your hair.”

Her lips parted. She took the strands from him and looked down. The blood drained from her face. Her hand shook as she picked out the pieces.

“Hey, you’re okay. It’s just glass.” He spoke softly and slowly.

She nodded wildly, but didn’t look at him. He took her elbows in his hands and hauled her to her feet. Her eyes shot to his face, mist hovered in her dark lashes. She dropped her face to his chest, her hands fisted between them.

His heart wrenched in his chest. He closed his arms around her and pressed one hand to the back of her head, the other to the small of her back. She trembled against him. Her teeth chattered.

Sonofabitch, she was probably still in shock. He reached over and cranked the hot water on. He lifted her in his arms and set her on her feet in the shower, then stepped in with her. Steam billowed around them. He pulled the curtain shut and backedher up under the hot spray. Carefully, he shook his hand through the strands of her hair, freeing the glass.

“Don’t move, I don’t want you to step on glass,” he whispered in her ear. She said nothing, her shoulders twitched against him. After a few minutes, she pulled away. Her eyes focused, her lips tense.

“Sorry. The glass freaked me out, I don’t know…”

He cupped her jaw. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Her lashes lowered to rest on her cheeks. She sniffled, the sound so soft and vulnerable coming from her.

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