Page 50 of Lethal Threat
If my heart wasn’t already racing, it would be now. My body hums to life as my fingertips ache to know how warm his skin is this morning.
Cole’s eyes follow my hand as I press my tangled hair back from my face. The way he looks at me makes it feel as if his hands are on me.
“Did you just get up?” I ask, curious about his morning routines.
With a quick nod, he says, “I did. Didn’t fall asleep until around five.”
“Ouch. That’s not much rest. It took me a while too.” Absent-mindedly, I scratch at the bandage on my arm.
His brows crease. “I should check those stitches. Are they hurting or itching?”
I shrug as I twist my arm so I can see the jagged black line of thread below the clear dressing. “Both, I guess.”
Worry creases his forehead as he approaches the bed. “Is that the original bandage?”
“I’m not sure. It was stressful at the hospital.”
Carefully, he touches me. His gigantic, warm handwraps around my forearm. Gently, he angles my arm so he can see the bandage better in the light.
A thrill rushes through me. Every time he touches me, my nerve endings light up.
“I don’t like the look of this. The last thing we need is for this to get infected. I’ll clean it and re-bandage it after we feed you some breakfast.”
When he’s finished the inspection, he looks over the other bruises on my arm. Carefully turning my arm and touching the skin around the bruises so he doesn’t hurt me. “Did you get any other cuts?”
“I’ve got a lot of scrapes. On my legs and back. But I can’t see the ones on my back, of course. I feel them, though.”
The concern in his eyes both warms me and unnerves me.
“Turn around,” he rumbles.
“I’m fine.”
Not accepting my answer, he climbs onto the bed to kneel behind me.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Doctor Strong,” I say in a teasing tone.
“I’m a paramedic to be exact.”
Gently, Cole sweeps the long strands of my hair over my shoulder. I’m frozen as my skin goosebumps. With a careful touch, he pulls my night shirt up, exposing my bare back.
His exhale is telling.
I’m on fire on the inside.
It would be so easy for me to lean back into him and pull his hands around to cup my aching breasts.
But a quick intake of his breath tells me just how bad I must look. The warm pads of his fingers trace over the bumpsof my vertebra. “Christ, Sierra. Your back is a fucking mess. You should have told me.”
“I didn’t know. I mean, I’m sore, but it’s not like they had full-length mirrors in the hospital.”
I turn enough to see the worry on his face turn to anger. His voice is gruff when he says, “I can’t understand what happened that left you like this.”
My throat works as emotion fills my chest. “If I knew, I’d be happy to tell you. But I don’t know. I remember nothing before I woke up in the hospital.”
I turn away. Still reeling from the fact I don’t remember this man. Or anything that happened before seven days ago. Sliding off the bed, I mutter, “Enough staring at my back. That won’t fix anything.”
Cole’s expression is dark as a thunderstorm. A wave of intense energy shimmers between us.
