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Without grumbling or giving her instructions on how to drive, he calmly buckled up and leaned back. He didn’t even tell her to be careful with his baby. A glow of warmth filled her insides. This was one nice—big—truck. Not too big for her to handle. She glanced to Mike as she cranked the engine. Excitement flowed through her knowing he was hers to take care of until morning. Nerves danced in her stomach as she turned on the headlights and maneuvered onto the highway.
He fell asleep not long after. Tempted, she almost headed to the hospital. Since he’d refused to go earlier, she didn’t want to take the chance he might get mad at her, so she decided to take him home and see how much damage had been done.
When she’d seen the fire trucks at the accident, she had immediately thought of her fire guy. A little conversation, a light flirtation, and she couldn’t get the man out of her mind. No one else had ever lingered in her thoughts. She hadn’t had a real boyfriend since high school—not since she’d found out boys were jerks.
Taking a quick peek, she glanced at the sleeping man beside her. A flood of emotion filled her chest. Did she dare go down this path? Should she be scared of him? Or should she embrace this sudden attraction? For even though Mike radiated sex appeal, and his eyes promised forbidden delights, he’d been reserved.
At the restaurant, he’d looked at her the way a man looks when he’s interested. She thought he’d wanted to see her again. Then tonight, when she’d offered to take him home, he’d been reluctant. But he had agreed to go with her.
It wasn’t long before she pulled into her apartment complex.
“Mike.” She grazed his shoulder. “We’re here.”
His eyes fluttered open.
Oh God. Smoky, drowsy, bedroom eyes. Fire lit her lower belly. Desire settled between her legs.
“What?” The husky sound stroked her burn.
She was in over her head. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
He made it into the building on his own. She shuddered, thinking of how it would feel with the towering man leaning on her. Cozying up with her. She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. Right now, he needed care.
Conscious of his breath on the back of her neck, she inserted a key into the lock, then pushed the door open and flipped the light switch. “Here we are.”
Mike stepped inside and did a slow turn, observing her living space. She watched him, holding her breath. The room seemed much smaller with his large frame in the middle of it. He glanced at her and held out both arms.
“Okay. I’m all yours.” His raspy, sensual voice slithered up her spine.
For a second, she allowed his words to caress her needy mind. Wondering if he realized what they implied.
Jerking her mind back to his injury, she led him into the kitchen. “Sit down and let me tend to that.”
“You don’t have to bother.”
“It’s no bother. Since you won’t go to the ER, I want to look at it.” Her chest tightened with worry. He’d lost some blood—the wound probably needed stitches, but the burn was what worried her most. She pointed to a chair. “Sit.”
When he obeyed, she turned and stepped to the sink.
Hot or cold. I guess cold since it’s a burn.
She turned on the faucet and glanced over her shoulder—and froze. Hot smoldering eyes glimmered back at her. Hot with passion? Or hot with pain? It was difficult to distinguish which.
Cautiously, she placed the bowl of water and a rag on the table.
“Let’s get you out of that shirt.”
Mike slid her a lopsided grin as he unbuttoned his shirt. She inhaled softly. Black springing curls spread across his sculpted chest, with pecs and abs that would make any woman drool. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and realized how ridiculous the gesture looked. Still, she couldn’t prevent her tongue from sliding across her dry lips.
Willing her hands to be steady, she dipped the cloth in the cool water and dabbed at the dark spot on his shirt, hoping the moisture would loosen the cloth bonded to his side. He winced.
Her gaze flew to his, but he stared at the floor. He’d been hurt more than he wanted her to know.
Biting her tongue, she soaked the cloth again and squeezed, allowing the water to dribble over his shirt. Once it was completely saturated, the fabric peeled away. She tried to hide her alarm. The marred flesh looked raw and open—the shirt had ripped the skin away. Mike had to be in pain. And he’d not made a sound.
Mentally, she went over the items in her medicine cabinet. Nothing for a burn. All she could think of was cold water. That’s what was used on burns.
“Mike. Please let me take you to the hospital.”
