Page 16 of Toxic Temptation
Her mouth drops open. “Excuse me?”
“I need to see the wound, and since you insist on making me give you choices, it’s either this or I rip the scrubs off of you. One way or another, though, Doctor, that shirt is coming off.”
“I told you I’m fine.”
“And I told you I’m taking care of it.”
I drop the wadded-up ball of clothes on the bench and face her directly. It’s small enough in here that I can smell her—the waft of floral perfume, the tang of blood and sweat. Her back is against the mirror. Nowhere to retreat.
We stare each other down for a long minute. Vesper’s nostrils flare with every exhale. But little by little, the animal in her recognizes that she’s trapped. There’s only one way out of this corner: submit.
So, with a sigh, all the fight goes whistling out of her. “You’re unbelievable,” she says.
“I’ve been called worse.”
“Oh, I believe that for sure.” She snatches up the topmost article of clothing, then glares at me. “Turn around.”
“No.”
“You can’t be serious.”
I lean against the door, arms crossed. “Dead serious.”
With a muttered curse, she turns her back to me and yanks off her scrub top. The movement makes her wince again, confirming my suspicion that the wound is worse than she’s letting on.
She lets the scrub top dangle from her fingertips before it falls to the ground. I glance at it. It’s soaked through with blood. More than I realized during my earlier peek.
I step forward. She startles when my palm comes to cup the uninjured side of her neck. “Hold still,” I order in a heated whisper.
“This is humiliating,” she says, but stays in place.
Using the dirtied scrub as gauze, I carefully dab away the wet blood as best as I can. She hisses at the sting.
“For a doctor,” I remark, “you’re a terrible patient.”
“For a kidnapper, you’re an annoying nurse.”
I bite my tongue so I don’t smile. But when I look up in the mirror in front of us, I see her watching my face. I’ve never been the type to give a fuck what others think of me, and I sure as hell am not changing now.
The mix of fear and awe in her face is an interesting one, though. Her perfume is nicer when I’m this close. Less drug-store clearance rack and more subtle than I first suspected. Heavy on the vanilla. I don’t mind.
With the blood mostly wiped away, the spray of freckles across her collarbone shines through like stars at night. Her skin is flushed and supple beneath my touch. Without thinking, one finger traces lightly along the cliff of her shoulder and winds down to the soft patch at the crook of her elbow. The wound isn’t so bad, all things considered, but I still find myself wondering if maybe I ought to check the rest of her. Make sure no other bullets went ricocheting in the wrong direction. If the skinbeneath her bottoms is as velvety as the skin along the curve of her throat. If?—
I clear my throat. “Put this on.” I hand her a simple black dress from the pile I grabbed.
She takes it without looking at me, slips it over her head. Then she undoes the drawstring cord of her scrub pants, shimmies them down, and steps out of them. She looks absurdly proud of having changed without showing me much of anything.
Slowly, she turns until she’s facing me properly, not my reflection. “How long do I have to stay with you?”
“Until I say you can leave.”
Her eyes flash again. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
She nods, unimpressed, unsurprised. “Well, I’m dressed. So what’s next on today’s fun little excursion?”
“Good question.” I tilt my head. “Are you hungry?”
