“It’s both,” he countered. “I’m fine–trust me. I’m a retired Marine. I know my wounds, and this one is nothing. It was a through-and-through.”
Of course, he was a Marine. That was why he didn’t side-step helping a woman in danger. He was willing to put others’ lives before his. Just like he had for me. I wasn’t sure if I should hug him, cry, or jump him.
“I’ll get a wet washcloth to clean you up. Maybe there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom.”
The penthouse suite was as big as the one Mr. Burke had been in. Two bedrooms, two mega-bathrooms plus a powder room. Living room, dining area. Full kitchen. I prayed that in the midst of all this luxury there was a first aid kit.
In the bathroom, I searched through the vanity’s drawers. Extra toilet paper, toothbrushes in their packages. Yes! I found one! It wasn’t much, but it had some gauze. Tape. Bandaids. Antibacterial ointment.
I wet a washcloth in the sink then took it and the first aid kit back to Roy. I sat once again in front of him, my knees brushing the couch between his spread legs.
I breathed him in. His closeness wasn’t scary. It was… exhilarating.
“Here, let me,” I whispered.
I gently wiped the drying blood from his arm. My fingers still shook. My breath still came in short, shallow pants.
Roy shifted forward on the couch, bringing his feet closer together to cage me between his thighs. I glanced up. His gaze wasn’t on the wound, it was on my face. He looked… hungry.
Fascinated.
That was crazy. No one found me fascinating. I was the most boring woman on the planet. Working the most boring job. I wore boring clothes.
My body heated under his attention. Moisture leaked between my legs.
This shouldn’t be hot. He got shot, for God’s sake. And it was my fault.
Why was this so hot? Why was I so hot? I wanted to fan myself.
“You’re a good nurse,” he murmured. His voice was a low, approving purr. The kind that made you want to earn a “good girl” from him.
I chuffed as I tried to open a packet of antibiotic ointment, but my fingers were shaking so badly still that I kept fumbling. He took it from me and easily opened it. “Maybe I should have been a nurse because I’m not a great accountant.”
“Accountant?” Roy handed me the sample packet back and took the gauze package from the kit, ripped it open, then handed it to me as well. “Smart and beautiful. I’m sure you’re great. Better than great.”
He called me beautiful. Why was this guy so into me? It was… unnerving.
Exciting.
No, that was probably the adrenaline talking.
I smeared both sides of the wound with the ointment. I guessed he was right–the wound had stopped bleeding and no longer seemed as bad as it initially looked. “I may be good with numbers, but I have terrible instincts. I just ended up in a meeting with men who looked like they’re in the mob or something else really shady and helped them launder a shit ton of money.”
Roy’s body stiffened, like he was on full alert now, prepared to fight them off for me.
“That’s why you ran?” he asked.
I nodded. “I’m not a money launderer, if that’s what you were thinking.”
He shook his head. “Not a chance. You’re a good girl.”
Oh damn. He said it. My body was so amped up, every nerve ending a live wire, and hearing him call me good girl in that deep, rumbly voice nearly made me come. I was pretty sure my panties were soaked.
Roy’s nostrils flared as he dragged in a long inhale. He looked like he savored the breath.
A weird, warbling, semi-hysterical laugh came from my lips. So embarrassing.
I fumbled with a second package of gauze pads, trying three times before I managed to rip it open.