Page 153 of Cold-Blooded Creatures
Gedeon threw his legs over the edge of the bed and stretched his arms above his head, his skintight shirt accentuatingeveryrippling muscle. “We spared no time to change.” Standing up, he tugged the fabric down, hiding the tempting sliver of brown skin right above the hem of his pants.
But they hadn’t picked up fresh clothing because they’d rushed straight after me. And had figuredIwas the runner.
Iownedthe fuckers.
Damn it, smugness was a nice feeling.
Superior to their sticky cum dripping down my thighs.
“Give me a minute to wash up.” I clambered off the bed and headed for the cracked open door. Of course, Zion had to sneak into the bathroom and scare the shit out of me. But he shut me up with a hungry kiss and helped me to clean up, so, not like I could complain.
“What is that?” He stared at my wrapped-in-gauze ankles as I washed up in the sink.
I turned off the faucet and dabbed my face with a white towel. “Nothing significant.”
“Are they from the ropes?”
I returned the cloth to its hook beside the mirrored cabinet and aimed for the bedroom, the dark blue floor tiles chilly under my soles.
He blocked my path out of the bathroom, and repeated, “Are they from the ropes?”
“It’s truly nothing, Zion. I just didn’t want to get an infection, so I covered them.”
“Sit.” He pointed to the toilet.
Sighing, I plopped my butt down on the closed lid. Knowing him, he’d tie me to the bed to have a look. The man had deliberately split my skin open mere minutes ago and now seemed distraught because I’d injured myself due to him having secured the ropes too well.
Zion ran one end of a fresh towel under the faucet, wrung it out, and knelt before me. “Hold this.” He handed me the dampfabric and carefully removed the gauze dotted in scarlet from my ankles.
“See? It’s fine.” The bleeding had stopped, and from how superficial the wounds were, I guessed they’d heal in a week or two with no scarring.
“It’s not fine,” he muttered, dabbing the moist towel along the cuts and the irritated skin around them. “I tied the ropes too tightly.”
“Zion.” I gripped his shoulders and raised his head when he wouldn’t cease fussing. “Theyarefine. It’s not your fault. I hurt myself.”
“You shouldn’t have. I should have made sure the knots were loose enough,” he said glumly, using the dry end of the towel to soak up the moisture from the affected flesh. “They were supposed to hold you only until we left the compound.”
I cupped his neck to force him to look at me. “Don’t blame yourself. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. It was your instincts. And I probably could’ve gotten out some other way, but I was mad at you both and didn’t care if I got hurt. You’re not used to being soft, and that’s okay, because I’m not used to it either. And they’ll heal in no time, so please don’t make it a problem.” His throat bobbed, and I pressed my forehead to his, smiling. “But if you want to work for it, I know how you can make it up to me.”
Meeting my eyes, he frowned. “How?”
I dipped my fingers in his golden-brown hair, playing with the strands. “Make me fries for breakfast tomorrow.”
He snorted. “That’s what you want?”
Gripping fistfuls of his hair, I playfully tugged on them. “Yes.”
“But we’re out of tomato sauce.” He kissed my inner forearm, and his tongue tickled the same spot. “I need something I can lick off you.”
Now it was my turn to snort. “Then you’ll have to come up with something else. Breakfast is my price.”
With his head tipped back, he studied the flaking paint on the ceiling. “Pancakes?”
I yanked on his hair to bring his gaze back to me. “You know how to make pancakes?”
He grinned. “My father taught me.”
“You never told me!”
