Page 5 of Sexting the Tattooed Outlaw
“Don’t look at me! Get out!”
“Hold on,” Sam says, his eyes narrowing as he looks at the spot on my thigh. “That burn looks bad, Kay.”
“It’s fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “And I told you tostopcalling me Kay.”
He kneels in front of me, his face inches from my upper thigh. He brushes the pad of his thumb lightly against the reddened blotch of skin and I suppress a wince.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “It’s a hard habit to break. I’ve always known you as Kay.”
“You don’t know me at all,” I retort.
“That’s not true,” Sam says. “I know when you’re lying. This isn’t ‘no big deal.’ This is a bad burn, Kay.”
He rises, going to the ensuite bathroom.
“What the hell are you doing?” I call to him.
I finally find my milk-stained jeans and start to pull them back on. But he’s already exiting my bathroom, holding a tube of Aquaphor in his large hand.
“Put that back!” I hiss.
The only reason I’m not fully shouting at this frustrating man right now is because my parents are downstairs.
I don’t need to give Mom yet another thing to worry about.
Sam ignores my order, coming closer to me.
“Are you going to let me help you with that burn, or not?”
“Not,” I snap, lifting my chin in defiance.
“Fine,” he shrugs. “Then we’re doing this the hard way.”
“What do you mea-”
Before I know what’s happening, Sam pushes me down against the bed. I fall back and he pins me there with one powerful arm, using his other hand to assess the burn on my bare thigh, my jeans still around my ankles.
I freeze as his palm slides up my outer thigh.
“You should have treated this burn right after it happened,” he chastises me.
His voice is low and deep now, almost soothing. His gentle touch is provoking full body goosebumps all over my skin. My nipples pebble and my breathing grows shallower.
“I was a little busy operating a business,” I reply.
Despite trying to sound tough, my voice comes out as a strangled whisper. All of my fight seems like it left my body the moment Sam’s hand touched my skin.
The man is currently pinning me down on my bed. I should be wrestling against the thick, tattooed forearm that he’s bracing across my hips…but I don’t.
I never thought I was the kind of woman to enjoy being man-handled by a guy, but it’s undeniable that Sam’s forceful way of getting me to comply is turning me on. My skin feels hot, not just the red burn on my thigh but every inch of it.
The room is quiet as Sam examines the burn on my thigh. My eyes wander over the tattoos that peek from his shirt collar, wandering up the side of his neck.
And that’s when I see it. A bold, ornate letter ‘K’ inked behind his left ear.
It’s a coincidence,I tell myself.‘K’ could mean a lot of things.
He’s opening the tube of Aquaphor and squeezing some out onto his finger. I watch as he glides the sticky ointment over my reddened skin. His touch is gentle, careful, as though he doesn’t want this to cause more pain than necessary.
