Page 6 of Savagely Yours
He swatted the outside of my thigh. “Get to work then.”
I rolled my eyes and scooted over on the mattress. The man was as good-looking in dark pants and a gray T-shirt as he was in the suits he wore to work.
“Did the hospital give you something?” he asked, claiming the space next to me. “A sedative, maybe?”
I’d been in such a deep sleep that I forgot to wear a headscarf to bed, and my silk pillowcase was still in the hamper. At the very least, I’d managed to slip into a tank top and plaid sleep shorts.Thankfully, it was too dark for him to make out that I wasn’t wearing a bra.
“They didn’t take me to the hospital. Every last one was full, so I told EMS I wanted to go home. My vitals were stable, and they had no other options, so they agreed. One of the medics snuck me a pill.”
“And you just…took it?”
“Uh, yeah. He was wearing a uniform.”
He snorted a laugh.
I playfully elbowed him in the side of his arm.
“There were extenuating circumstances, if you recall,” I reminded him. “I neededsomething.How did the rest of the day go for you?”
Usually, he wore his hair pulled back and away from his face. Tonight, the strands brushed his shoulders and kissed his jawline in ways I could only dream of doing—and had dreamed.
“I had a ton of paperwork to do, and I had to brief the Feds about the incident,” he said. “I haven’t slept yet, though I might fall asleep now that I know you’re all right. If the ice didn’t work, I would have carried you into the shower and blasted the water on its coldest setting.”
“And get my hair wet?”
“To save your life.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
He shook his head, the expression on his face every bit incredulous. “And what do you mean anyway?” he asked. “What’s wrong with getting your hair wet?”
I gasped, left the bed, and headed for the living room. He grabbed the flashlight and the melting bag of ice and followed.
“One year, Dez. It’s been at least a year of me educating you about all things Larke Tapley. Now, I’m forced to ask…do you evenknowme?”
“Quiz me. Let me earn back my prestige.”
I spun around to face him. “Okay, then. But I’m going all the way back to information you should have learned around month three of our relationship.”
“Ah,” his mouth twitched, “back when we were still in the honeymoon phase.”
I tamped down my desire to smile along with his amusement. “Question one: don’t get my hair wet unless it’s time to get it wet. When is that time?”
“When that time is,” he answered.
I held in a laugh. “Correct. Two, what color did I realize I get if I mix brown and gray together?”
“Lotion.”
A small laugh spilled out.
He grinned.
“Good. Now, how do I know when a bad storm is coming?”
“Um…humidity?”
“Did you even study, Mr. Harding?”
