Page 27 of Cruel Russian Monster
I groaned. Those were the longest two days of my life.
Yes, the doctor said he’d pull through, but I needed to see his eyes open, to hear it from him. I had barely slept, and probably passed out sometime last night without realizing.
I hadn’t wanted us to take Jaroslav to his room. I didn't want to feel his bed under me, or have his scent waft into my nostrils. It would be way too awkward.
So we brought him to…mine.
We were in my room…on my bed.
Together.
I bolted upright, eyes wide.
I patted the empty space next to me, as if patting it would magically make him materialize.
Where was Jaroslav?
My body felt like it was made of lead, but I needed to find him. What if he’d gone back to his room and collapsed? What if he was passed out somewhere in this big-ass house?
Just as I stood to head for the door, Jaroslav stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped low around his waist.
I hurried to him.
The large white bandage that had been wrapped around his torso was gone. In its place was a smaller patch, tucked slightly beneath the towel. I gently shifted it aside to check the bandage. It was clean, no blood. I stepped around and checked the one on his back and found that clean as well.
I exhaled with relief. The worst was over. My efforts had paid off.
Without thinking, I ran my hands over his chest and back, searching for bruises, under the wet hair that hung limp on his forehead, for any sign he might’ve fallen or hurt himself again in the bathroom.
“I’m sorry about your car,” I rambled, still checking him. “It’s all bloodied from the drive back. I meant to get someone toclean it, but I’ve been with you the past two days. I didn’t have time for anything else, besides a quick shower, because I was so worried about…”
My voice faltered.
Jaroslav just stood there, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.
That’s when I realized my hands were still on his chest—his muscular, very well-toned chest. I jerked them away and took two steps back, heat rushing up my neck and blooming across my face.
I cleared my throat. “H-how do you feel?”
I tried to keep my eyes on his, willing myself not to remember how his skin had felt beneath my hands, or notice that he wore nothing beneath that towel. Nothing to hide the way the deep V of his torso disappeared beneath the fabric, leading where my eyes and memory had no business wandering.
His lips curved into a smile. “Thanks to you,” he stepped closer, voice softer, “I’m alive.”
Jaroslav smiling at me was one thing, but when he talked to me in that soft, sexy tone, goosebumps erupted on my skin, and the slow burn of desire sparked between my thighs.
I quickly turned away, desperate for a distraction. I yanked open the nightstand drawer way too hard. The entire drawer clattered to the floor, spilling everything onto the carpet.
Swearing under my breath, I crouched and grabbed the bag of medication from the pile, trying to pretend like my face wasn’t burning like a damn scorpion pepper.
“These are for you. The instructions are written on everything.”
He took the bag, his fingers brushing mine.
“Thank you,” he chuckled.
His fingers lingered just long enough to make my breath catch.
No. No. No.
